The Demon With Manners
by gilmattie
Summary: Prucan angel/demon AU. After getting killed outside a cafe, Mattie finds himself in a strange, pale city. Arthur claims it's heaven, and if it is, Mattie can't complain—things are pretty good here. But outside of this new world? Demons lurk in darkened corners with their evil schemes. When Mattie meets Gilbert, his death slips way out of control... but, even demons were human once.
1. New Life

**(New story! I feel that I should point out that _not only do we not have the end of this written,_ we also don't actually have a clear picture of what it will be, so... Please review, let us know what you think, etc. **

**Warnings: um... this story has angels and demons in it. It's not tied to any one religion, but if it offends you, well... sorry. Here's your warning. Also future adult themes and Gilbert's mouth, so nothing new there. Enjoy!)**

* * *

Mattie blinked. He did not recognise where he was or have any memory of how he'd gotten here. The last thing he remembered was—

oh yes. Being beaten into oblivion by a group of rogue justice-seekers, just outside the cafe. He looked down to see his clothes still ripped and bloody, and he winced. Wasn't life spectacular…

Maybe that's where he was… oblivion. It would certainly seem to fit; his surroundings were pale and bright, too bright—like a photograph that hadn't been exposed long enough. The highlights were blown out and the shadows, which should have been almost black, opted for a light grey instead. Just a few more seconds exposure…

He liked photography; he wished he were better at it, but it would only take more practise to become so. He felt like he had a hard time figuring out what to do to adjust his photos, to make them better. It was also hard to find subjects to capture, because apparently people didn't like him.

No, that wasn't why… He had gotten beaten up because those guys had thought he was gay. Or that he was acting gay, too gay… or something. It was stupid and uncivilised. He was gay, but that wasn't the point.

How had he gotten away?  
Where WAS he?

Instead of calling out, he got up, dusted himself off—he didn't feel sore, which was odd—and planned on walking around, until he could find something he recognised to get home. He wished he had his sunglasses. Why was everything so bright?

"Matthew?"  
"Ah!" he turned around to face a man in a dress. Mattie's first thought was 'ah, someone I can trust'… perhaps the gay crowd was just a little too queer.

"'Mattie', please," he corrected, still confused, "Who are you?"

"Mattie, of course. Sorry. My name is Arthur."

"Hello…"

Evidently, Arthur realised that his introduction did not clear much up for the boy. He coughed. "Er, yes, sorry. Do you know where you are?"

Mattie shook his head.

"…Do you know what's happened to you?" the man suggested. Mattie shook his head again.  
"Oh, I hate doing this," Arthur said. Without allowing Mattie time to become nervous about what he hated doing, Arthur simply told him, "Love, you've died."

—

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. But he suddenly found that he didn't need to.

Arthur guided him down the pale streets, through the empty metropolis to what seemed to be the capital. He met other beings, whom he was pleased to see all wore dresses, regardless of sex or gender. Arthur said they were angels. He also said that he was an angel and that Mattie was one, now, too—which was bizarre to him, since he wasn't really religious. Still…

The angels in the capital removed his stained clothing and gave him a clean nightgown; they healed his bruises and broken bones, removed the scars he didn't want, made him slimmer and stronger. They offered to fix his eyesight, but Mattie liked his glasses. He didn't think he looked like himself without them.

When they were done 'fixing' him, they gave him wings, a halo and a place to stay. None but the last was obvious to him. He thought that he should be able to feel his wings beneath his shoulder blades, or be able to touch them when when he wrapped his arms around himself, but he couldn't. Nor, when he looked up, could he see his halo. Arthur had told him they would grow stronger as he did. In the meantime, though… he needed rest.

—

He learned about his duties as an angel in the next weeks. It was still strange to think of himself as an 'angel', though he had gotten used to the underexposure, just as Arthur had said he would.

It was also strange separating himself from his old life. He kept forgetting to put thing in past tense, even though he was so obviously—literally—on another plane of reality. Despite this technical error, he could feel the distance between his old life and this one, or rather, his life and his death. He did not feel dead. He also did not feel remorseful or sad about losing his family and friends, which kind of freaked him out when he was able to wrap his head around it… Still, Arthur had told him that heaven tended to neutralise pain, so he accepted it. He found himself constantly thanking the elder angel for all his advice.

As an angel, Mattie was essentially meant to go around and help people on Earth. He didn't have to make them religious, which he was thankful for… religion was still weird to him. No, he just had to keep people's spirits up, give them hope. He liked that. He hadn't been depressed or anything when he was alive, but everyone went through dark turns. He had died on one of his. Occasionally, late at night, he tried to relive his last moments, but it was hard—too fuzzy, too distant, too little time to relive before he must have passed out. He couldn't even hear the damaging voices anymore.

There were four planes of existence, as far as the angels were concerned. This place, the calm, underexposed cityplex, was heaven. Earth was another plane, hell another still—and finally, the limbo zones. Nowhere places, or, with a clever pun, utopias. Those were the only places where all powers were truly equal: angels, demons, humans, it didn't matter. It was supposed to be that way on Earth, but the powers fluctuated so much there that it didn't work. Demons, evidently, had little power here, and angels, well—

"Just don't end up in hell."

—

* * *

 **Hallo, Gilbert here~**

 **Danke for reading our story! I know you all are sad that I'm not in it yet, but don't worry, I'll be in it soon~**  
 **Bitte review, danke.**  
 **See you next time~**

 **P.S. Sorry about the hiatus on The Reincarnation AU. I have a shit ton of stuff but I'm working on it! Hopefully you all will be able to read my genius soon~!**  
 **Danke again, auf wiedersehen. Awesome out!**

 **(Do you guys get annoyed with those squiggles? I do. Sorry about that.)**


	2. First Trip

**(And, here we meet Gilbert... Should probably put a warning here for "adult themes" and suggestiveness? The Prussian is being a demon, what can I say... we do not own these characters or the show, just the story. Enjoy!)**

* * *

"Mattie, are you ready for your first visit?" Arthur's voice rang clearly through the walls of Mattie's home. "Just a minute, eh!" the boy replied. Well, 'boy'. On Earth, he had been seventeen years old, but angels didn't measure age after death. Just another thing that kept throwing Mattie off.

He could see his wings now, though one of the more experienced angels—not Arthur this time—had advised him not to keep trying to touch them. She wouldn't say why. However, this was heaven, so he decided to trust this new source. He wasn't supposed to mess with his halo either.

He really wished there was a mirror in his apartment, but he hadn't seen a single one since he'd arrived. Since he'd died. He thought it probably had to do with not being vain or something; he didn't ask because he felt so clueless already.

"Hello," he greeted Arthur, gently shutting his door behind him.

"Have everything?"

"I think so?"

"Good." The two of them headed off down the hall, down the stairs, to the edge of the world. Mattie was no longer tired by physical exertion; at least, not in heaven. The others said it would be different while in other planes.

"Where are we going?" Mattie asked as they travelled.

"London," his guide replied. "One of my favourite places, 'sides up here. I'm from London," he added, sentimentally. His (rather large) brows furrowed. "Where are you from, love? I still don't know." He looked a little embarrassed at this knowledge gap, having talked to the boy for at least a month.

Mattie smiled, the same sentimentality taking over him. Guess things were better when you didn't have them anymore. "Canada," he sighed. He practically breathed the word. Arthur nodded. "Good place, that."

They arrived in London on an empty street, dark except for the streetlamps. It was about one AM, local time. Different from heaven, where it had been only mid-afternoon. Mattie and Arthur concentrated, (one harder than the other) and their wings vanished just as they had practised, halos doing the same. Mattie still felt uneasy being in the dark again, but the elder angel assured him that humans could not hurt him here.

"W-what about demons?" he asked, voice trembling as he did. Arthur bit his lip. "There aren't any. Just stay close," he told him. Mattie inched a bit toward him and remained so as they walked. Perhaps, when he had been alive, he wouldn't have acted this afraid, though he still would have _been_ as afraid _._ Earth had its strange customs of putting people into boxes, who was allowed to be afraid and act weak, who wasn't. He'd hated it, and even now still disagreed with it, though heaven had pacified his hatred. Since heaven had no such sex-based customs—everyone was treated equally, regardless of everything except knowledge level—he did not hide his fear. He was more honest now and that was good; yet, the world was still harmful… Perhaps not such a good thing.

They came upon a hospital, where despite it being after hours they came in, planning to talk with the patients. Arthur had said that neither of them were allowed to heal anyone (as if Mattie had enough control to do so anyway) but just to talk, to spark joy and hope. This, he declared, was a safe place, one he had visited in years past, so he let Mattie go off on his own, with the promise of meeting him back by the desk at four thirty.

Not wanting to wander too far or get lost, Mattie studied the map near the desk. It seemed, however, that all of the long-term patients—the only ones who would be here this late at night, other than the few nurses on duty—were all on the upper floors. Reluctantly, he headed for the stairs and climbed, disappointed when he started getting winded on the third story. So much for divine powers.

It was difficult to tell who was asleep and who was awake from the hallway. Though he did manage to speak briefly to a few people, he'd accidentally woken up an irritable grandfather, which made him hesitant to continue. The whole time he felt anxious, and was unable to relax and truly enjoy his conversations. He just felt that there was a specific place he should be….

After the grandfather incident he tried to let his heart show him where he was needed most. Angels did have, he'd been told, a beautiful sense of intuition. With that technique, he was led down some hallways veering right until he reached pretty much the very end. His intuition stopped there.

"Hello?" he called out, albeit softly, not wanting to wake someone else.

"Hallo?" a voice called back. Mattie turned his head to face a room that was slightly ajar. "Yes?" he whispered up against the doorframe. If this wasn't it, he could just leave…

"Ja, come in," the voice said again. _Decidedly not British_. Mattie's fingers splayed against the door as he pushed it open, illuminating the man inside with the pale light of the hallway.

He was albino, that much was obvious. His skin was so pale, and his hair practically shone even in the darkness. His eyes were closed, though Mattie suspected they would be pink, as traditional albinos were. The angel came in slowly, wondering how long he had been here. Wondering if he was stuck.

He almost tripped over the chair he was trying to pull up and apologised; the man laughed in his throat and said it was fine. With his eyes trying to adjust Mattie saw a cartoonish nightlight plugged into the wall by the floor—it was so dark without it…

"May I turn the nightlight on?"

The man chuckled. "Sure, kid." Relieved, Mattie got up and switched it on. The man did not open his eyes, even as Mattie sat back down in front of him.

He was young, younger than he sounded. With such a gruff voice Mattie may have guessed thirty or forty; this man seemed to be in his twenties. Perhaps it was because he was an angel, but Mattie found him beautiful. Life was beautiful. He swelled with happiness and for the moment, his anxiety was forgotten.

"Hello," he said, the smile evident in his voice, "I'm Mattie."

"Gilbert," the man replied, eyes still closed. He looked so peaceful now, just with his mouth quirking up a little on the edges. He was undoubtedly special to someone.

"That's a lovely name," Mattie remarked before he could stop himself. "I'm glad to meet you, Gilbert," he added, mainly so he could try out the name himself. He still liked it.

Gilbert grinned. "Pleasure~" he replied, also softly but differently from Mattie. His way was… intoned but exhaled, low and silky compared to his rough speech before. Mattie was awestruck, but it was when Gilbert sat up and opened his eyes that he was literally unable to move.

Even in the dim light, the angel could see that those eyes were not pink. They screamed red, like blood, like fire, worse than a Canadian who'd lost a hockey game. Red as in final warning and mortal pain, as in passion and hatred and _lust_.

Those were the eyes of a demon, he didn't need Arthur to tell him so.

And he was terrified.

"Scream for him and I'll rip out your soul," the demon murmured, his voice the same, so smooth even as he gripped Mattie's hand with his curved nails. The angel felt as if he were about to pass out with fear—but, gameover if he did. That was practically an invitation for the demon to do whatever he wanted… but so was, he realised, walking straight into a demon's trap. He wondered through his fear if he would be killed, or if something else would happen to him, since he was technically already dead…

"Sere are three people in sis hospital who have considered suicide a serious option," the demon told him, although Mattie did not know why or how he knew. "Two of sem are patients, vone is a doctor. Se plan _vas_ to let sem live und break everyone else, but now sat you're here… oh, don't be stupid, I'm not going to kill se suicide victims," he snapped, upon seeing the angel's eyes grow wide. "Nein, I'm actually going to leave sem all alone for now, und do you know vhy?"

The nailed fingers on the demon's other hand crawled up Mattie's spine, almost caressing him in a twisted, perverted fashion. Mattie shivered at the contact and the demon rumbled with quiet laughter. "It's because of you~" he intoned, letting his hand travel up the angel's neck and scrape under his chin. Mattie's heart wasn't beating fast enough to show how frightened he was. He didn't know what to do or even where to look—he thought it was a bad idea to take his eyes off the demon, but he so wanted to look away; even so, his gaze remained transfixed upon him as he sat, paralysed. _Arthur said it would be safe_ , the tiny voice in his head protested, and the demon chuckled again. "Arthur is a known liar," he smirked. Mattie was not able to comprehend how he knew what he'd been thinking. He just hoped, desperately, that it was four thirty and that his guide, liar or not, would come looking for him. _Please_.

"You're a gorgeous little thing," the demon interrupted his thoughts, again. Still gripping Mattie tight he rose from the bed, stalking around his victim and shamelessly examining him. The angel felt another chill shiver through his white nightgown and heat enter his cheeks as he blushed. "P-please stop," he asked, his own voice wavering more than he wanted it to. The demon leaned in close. His expression challenged Mattie, complete with those horrible, horrifying red eyes. At this distance he could see that they were not just red, but deep crimson, scarlet, and they stared into his soul. He blanched, but the demon just smirked and leaned in closer, rough lips brushing against his ear.

"Vhy in hell vould I do sat?"

Mattie found his own lips sealed shut, unable to answer, but when a vicious hand groped his ass he squealed. The demon had something very unpleasant twinkling in his eyes, that terrifying grin on his face—but he stopped when they could both hear footsteps outside the door. The pale face dropped and he gave the young angel an intense glare that warned him not to even _consider_ doing anything. Mattie saw his captor mouthing curses to himself for not paying closer attention, even when playing with such a precious toy as… him.

"Matthew?"

Arthur's voice floated through the halls. _Oh, please, please…_

The door was pushed open and a flash of light flooded the room. Mattie found himself frozen as a stasis spell hit him; the demon shouted in his own language and continued moving, evidently blocking the spell. "Sorry, Mattie," Arthur half-yelled, sparing him a glance. "At least you'll be out of the way." Mattie watched the elder angel and demon duel, spells and objects flying, competing with both power and skill. Mattie meant to warn Arthur when the demon tried to jump on his back, but he was still frozen, incapable of speaking outside of his mind. Luckily Arthur dodged him and the demon landed on the cot, where the elder angel was able to put a separate stasis spell on him. The demon growled.

"What do you think you are doing?" Arthur's voice was filled with a quiet fury that Mattie had never heard before; it scared him almost as much as the demon did. Said demon was able to turn around, despite the debilitating spell, and smirk evilly. He flicked his red eyes over to Mattie's suspended form and licked his lips—

It must have been then that Mattie finally passed out.

* * *

 **(Mm, yes, Mattie says 'about' not 'aboot'. That's not actually how it's pronounced, you know. But isn't he cute? Gilbert thinks so too!)**

 **(You know what else is a good ship? Spideypool. Different demographic, but still vastly entertaining. Send us a review on this chapter to tell us how we did, or give us the secret password _chimichangas_ if you want a possible Spideypool story in the future~! We're just two nerds who like to please :) see you soon!)**


	3. Recovery

**(The only reason these chapters are on time is because they're pre-written. Oops.)**

 **(We don't own this fandom, or the characters** **—happy late birthday to Hima, who does. Anyone here like Alfred F Jones? Well, he's in the chapter, whether you like him or not... Enjoy that. And eh** **—send** **a review, maybe? ...I had to ask. Sorry.)**

* * *

"Mattie? Mattie, are you alright, love? It's okay, you're safe now. We've gone back home."

Mattie felt himself lying prone on something very soft. "Mmm," he managed, and Arthur sighed in relief. "Thank gods," the elder murmured. "Look, you sleep. I'll make you something to eat, don't worry about anything."

The young angel did not have the energy to argue or even thank him. He simply nodded, and he felt the warmth and pressure of Arthur leave his side. Cuddling the softness closer, his thoughts disappeared and he was able to sleep.

—

He bit into a scone as he sat up in Arthur's home. The scone was strangely hard and a bit burnt, but if this was the worst thing he had experienced in heaven so far, he thought things must be pretty good. He thanked Arthur quietly and the man patted his back, responding with something about "any time".

He was almost unused to eating anymore, since angels rarely took up the practise except when feeling sentimental. Or, Arthur had told him just now, when they needed to heal or recover. He munched the scone mindlessly, almost forgetting how bad it was as he tried to remember what had happened on Earth. It was already fading tremendously.

Arthur, on the other hand, seemed anxious, even as he tried not to look like it. He fidgeted on the sofa, eyes downcast.

"Sorry," he said to preempt his speaking.

"Hm?"

"That," the elder began nervously, "That was Gilbert. He's a pride demon, and a bloody reckless one at that… shite, I don't know what he was doing at St Francine's hospital, because I've been there _loads_ of times before and it's _always_ been safe, and just becaus—!"

"Arthur," Mattie interrupted, calmly, "it's okay."

"It is not okay," the elder countered, "You're only saying it's okay because you don't know how bad it is."

"Then, tell me…" Mattie gently took hold of Arthur's hand. The memory of Gilbert gripping his own hand flashed through his mind, and he winced slightly. He made sure to hold Arthur's hand with extra care. Though he did not fancy a relationship with the British angel, even as a human he'd known that everybody needs comfort, sometimes. Arthur did not pull away.

"I put you in danger," he mumbled. "I brought you to a place that I didn't even bother to check for safety, because I blindly trusted that it would be safe. I let you go off on your own, your first time, and nobody had even mentioned self-defence to you yet! You even asked me, 'what about demons?' and I told you nevermind. And yet. You could have been violated, torn apart, broken, brought down to hell itself and _you would have been_ if I hadn't finally come to my senses! I… oh, lad, I'm so sorry…"

Mattie didn't say a word. He reached in and hugged Arthur, and Arthur wrapped his arms around the young angel to make up for his failed protection earlier. No one would hurt him now. No one.

"Thank you," he said thickly, and Mattie nodded. "Any time," he whispered. They sat there for a minute or so, before Arthur reached for one of his own scones. He seemed not to mind at all that it was burnt.

"W-what happened after I… ah… passed out?" Mattie asked carefully. Arthur sighed. "I was able to keep him in stasis and bestow Truth upon him—oh, right, no one's told you about that yet. Bestowing Truth is essentially the same as a truth potion, like in Harry Potter or something—I made him return to hell and leave you. I cleaned up a bit and fixed the records so it looked like he'd been checked out—he'd been masquerading as a long-term patient, you know—and then I brought you back up here with me. But, Mattie," he said, no longer just reciting what he'd done, "he's not going to forget about you. Gilbert is a single-minded creature, and you made quite an impression on him."

"Eh?"

"He wouldn't stop saying your name, even once I gave him Truth. Really bloody annoying," he added under his breath. Mattie didn't hear that part, though, for being too concerned with Gilbert. "Oh…"

"Don't worry, lad, we won't run into him again," Arthur declared, more confidently than he felt. "I promise."

—

Gilbert growled in frustration. He stalked around his lair and kicked things, grimacing when pain shot up through his bony toes. "VEST!" he yelled irritably. He was ignored, and that just made things worse.

"Fuck you too," he muttered. His brother could go die again for all he cared.

But Arthur? Oh, he was far worse. Gilbert hated that damn 'gentleman angel', he hated him, _he hated him!_ He was always screwing up the best plans. Eugh.

How could he get his _little engel_ without having to deal with that douchebag? There was no way Arthur was going to let Mattie out of his sight again.

Well, not on purpose…

A slow smile crept across Gilbert's lips. After a few calculations he stopped circling his lair and ran out to go find his help.

"Francypants! I need to talk vith you!"

—

Mattie was not allowed to leave heaven for weeks. Not only did the higher angels decide to teach him self-defence early, they also found it necessary to 'purify' him after his encounter with Gilbert. This essentially meant that his whole experience in heaven was even more underexposed, more lonely and more subdued for at least a week in itself. He felt sleepy all the time and couldn't even remember Arthur's name. He was so glad when they determined he was clean enough to continue.

After that he met his defence trainer. Or, 'guardian angel'. Or, 'brother.' Alfred F Jones had taken such a shine to him that he just decided one day they must be related, even though Mattie had been an only child when he was alive, and so had Alfie. However, the guardian either didn't hear the protests or didn't care, because he told everyone who came by that they were brothers now. Mattie watched in amusement, only to be embarrassed when he was forced to introduce himself to a couple dozen angels he did not know.

"Hey, bro! I know we spent a lotta time bein' silly today, but we gotta get some stuff done, okay? C'mere!"

Although he enjoyed Alfie's company, Mattie did not particularly enjoy the training. It meant he had to wrestle his new brother, over and over, and because he was not very good he almost always lost. He groaned, but came over as Alfie wanted.

"Alright," his guardian said, positioning himself into his American football stance, "I'm a demon, hehehe. I'll get you, my pretty!" He rubbed his hands together like an evil mastermind, or, like the witch he was imitating. Mattie rolled his eyes. "Alfie, that movie may not have been outdated when _you_ died, but…"

"Hey! I'm not that old!"

"Mhmm. How big were computers when you were last around? Did you even have one?"

"Heck yeah I did! My Atari 2600 was the best thing ever!"

"Oh my gods. Okay, you're such a dork."

"Says the one who celebrated the Doctor Who anniversary from the afterlife!"

They continued like that, much to the entertainment and/or irritation of those around them. Eventually they did begin a self-defense 'session', in which Mattie ended up crushed against the pale floor, and Alfie was relatively satisfied for the night.

"You did good, bro."

"Get off, Alfie."

"Okay, okay! Sorry," he at least had the decency to look a little sheepish. Mattie smiled.

"Goodnight, 'bro'."

"G'night, Mattie."

* * *

 **(Dear Amecan and Engcan,  
** **No.  
** **Sincerely, Prucan.)**

 **(Why is Matthew always second in the ship name** **—? Oh, hang on, I hear a yell directly from Gilbert: "** **Because he's an awesome bottom und he's cute und his vital regions are a bit girly!" Rude. Well, regardless... there will be FrUK in later chapters, so know that. Reviews? PMs work too. Thanks!)**


	4. Set in Motion

**(Enter, Francis [oui, oui, mon ami]. I hope you all like this story so far! We still don't have an ending... we'll probably have to start writing again. Fun times. Leave a review if you have comments, questions, just want to say hi, or have actual review things to say. Thanks!)**

* * *

"Et, why is it zat you need my 'elp specifically?" the vain demon asked, French accent still evident after all these years. Gilbert smirked. "It has to do vith 'your beautiful Angleterre'," he answered, complete with his own mock French accent and finger quotes.

"Ah…'e is quite a, hm, _treasure_ ," the Frenchman agreed. He sipped his hell-champagne. Gilbert had no idea why the bar even bothered serving anything except German beer, but… to each their stupid own.

"Look, Francy, I don't care about your sexual tension. You're just lucky mein awesome plan involves you distracting him…"

"Zat, I can do."

The pride demon snorted. "Only because you can't keep it in your pants."

"Guilty as charged. What is zis plan of yours, anyway?"

" _My_ part of se plan is irrelevant to your part. You don't need to know," Gilbert insisted. Francis was unconvinced.

"It's l'amour, isn't it?"

"Se hell? Nein! Don't be stupid!"

"It IS! Ah, mon Gilber' has finally found ze love—"

"Shut UP! I have not!"

Francis giggled. "Alright, I will help you~" he said. Gilbert gave him the worst glare he possibly could. It did not affect the Frenchman at all.

—

Thanks to Alfie, Mattie was a lot stronger now. He could beat his brother almost half of the time instead of none of it, and he felt like he had a much better grip on making his wings and halo disappear to blend in on Earth—something that a lot of angels evidently had much trouble with. He'd also stopped trying to touch them, which was sort of a milestone in the heavenly community.

He'd actually been down to Earth a few more times in the months since his first time, though never alone. Alfie went with him at first, and then he'd travelled with some do-good groups—clubs of angels that went to all orphanages or all schools. He didn't particularly enjoy those, but he was really just glad he got to go at all. He was tired of sitting up in heaven and being useless.

Arthur had refused to travel with him after what had happened, but he did show him some basic spells. Mattie could perform, with some concentration, low level shielding, healing and hiding spells. If Alfie had gotten his way, Mattie would have learned attack spells as well, but Arthur said they took more control than the young angel had, at the moment. He'd just end up hurting himself. Mattie tried not to take that lack of confidence personally, because he knew the two of them—his family—were only looking out for him. Whether they were actually related or not, Mattie loved them. He trusted them with his death.

—  
Gilbert stared down at the small, white bear he'd found earlier. "You better do exactly as I said," he told it.

It yawned. "Who?"

"Me. As I said. Now go find him."

"Who?"

"For the devils' sakes—Mattie! Go find Mattie, let him touch you, und bring him to New Prussia! Got it, Pooh Bear?" It stared at him, eventually nodding, and waddling off.

"Damn thing…"

—

Gilbert hated waiting. It had been about an hour since he'd set begun his mission, and he sat in his hiding spot at New Prussia, hoping that that goddamn bear was going to come into view with his precious _engel_ soon. The bar was not going to fare well tonight if it didn't.

He hated waiting…

—

"Alfie? What are you doin—oh. Hello."

There was a bear in his tiny kitchen. Whether that was preferable to his brother or not, he didn't know. It seemed awfully cute…

"Hello," he said again, raising his hands above his head to show he meant no harm, "I'm Mattie…"

The bear turned its attention from the cabinets and stood on its hind legs, looking at Mattie.

"Who?"

The angel gasped, not from fear so much as adoration. _This thing was so cute!_ He wanted to hold it, pet it, give it a name and home…

"Wonder if Arthur will let me keep him…" he murmured. to himself. He hoped so. He crouched down where he was in an effort to get the bear to come closer. It cocked its head to the side—so cute!—and moved slightly towards him.

"Yes, that's it," he heard himself whispering, "that's it. Come here, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. You're just so cute! What's your name, bud? Just a little closer…"

The polar bear slowly made its way over to Mattie.

"Who are you?" it asked, its voice still surprisingly light. Mattie giggled. "I'm Mattie!" he replied. The polar bear seemed to nod, and let the angel reach out and touch the fur on its head. "Ohh, you're so soft!" As he continued petting his newcomer's ears he got an idea. "Who are you?" he asked, copying the creature's intonation. He was hoping to communicate on like terms with the bear.

It was quiet for a moment, as if it were thinking. "Kuma," it eventually said, or at least that was what it sounded like. Mattie smiled. "Kuma it is, then!" Carefully, he gave the bear a small hug, and sat down on the floor to play with it now, just in case Arthur wasn't too fond of the idea of keeping it.

—

Arthur was nervous. He was planning on finally going down to Earth with Mattie again, although the younger angel did not yet know. It had been a long time since he'd let anyone become important to him, ever since he'd met Fr—well. It didn't matter. The point was he didn't know how to take care of Mattie. He was still kicking himself for letting the boy fall into a demon's hands while at St Francine's, and while Mattie had almost certainly forgiven him… he had not forgiven himself. He thought back to when he was a new angel, all those years ago. He had also been too kind, too caring, once he had understood the concept. It broke everyone in the end, especially if you were in love with a d—

He HAD to stop thinking about him.

 _Mattie, focus on Mattie._ Luckily Alfie had been surprisingly helpful when it came to the younger angel, teaching him all the self-defence, not to mention them being brothers now. Arthur's lips quirked a little at the thought. Alfred had always been such a free-spirited individual. And Mattie; he was even kinder than—

 _Who?_

Arthur blinked. What had he been thinking about? Alfred? …Silly boy. Perhaps one of these days he would learn some good, Victorian manners.

Oh, no, it hadn't been Alfred. It was Francis. Again.

He sighed. He used to think angels were so pure… and perhaps they were, the ones whose hearts belonged to only heaven itself. Sweetness and trust and purity were one thing, but… Arthur needed someone to bring out the worst qualities in him. Luckily, he had someone.

He gave in. Arthur went down to Earth to go find him, immediately.

He was not forgetting anything.

* * *

 **(In case it isn't clear: Gil enchanted Kuma to make everyone forget Mattie when Mattie touched him. Only temporarily, most likely—our demon may be powerful, but magic just isn't his strong suit.  
Also, as a reminder, this story is _not_ connected with any major world religion. Everything is fine. It's all cool.)**


	5. Going Down

**(I guess triggers for mostly-suggested non-con touching? No worse than anything that's happened so far. Just trying to be safe, guys.)  
**

 **(This chapter is a little short, but it makes more sense to end here because of the themes and action, etc. Hey! Let us know what you think of this story about characters we _do not own_ , and we might even update our Reincarnation AU.)  
**

 **(Okay. Actually, we're going to do that anyway, just as soon as I edit Gil's part. But a review would still be nice! Thank you!)**

* * *

The polar bear Mattie had met earlier now had a sock in its mouth. It stared at him from across the room, and when the angel got up to free the sock, the bear inched away.

Mattie frowned. As cute as it was, he had spent too much time with it already; he was supposed to be writing a paper for the higher angels, explaining the relationship between humans and heaven. He didn't feel like he could spend that time chasing a bear—any bear, no matter how cute—instead. "Please put that back, Kuma," he asked, hoping the politeness would convince the animal. He didn't even wear socks that often, anyway, usually just going barefoot at home and wearing his sandals outside. He did wear socks for Earth, but it wasn't as if he went _there_ more than once a month. The bear disappeared back into the bedroom.

When Mattie looked up again, Kuma was no longer holding the sock in his mouth.

Instead, his jaws were wrapped around a small sculpture Alfie had made. To the unaware passerby, it looked like junk—just an old toy car and some Coca-Cola caps; a toy soldier, paper clips, game cartridge. Its mismatched colours and textures glued together, every piece at least thirty years old—but Mattie knew those were all real objects from when Alfie had been alive, preserved and arranged with care, and currently about to be crushed in a bear's mouth. "Oh, no," he said softly, "Kuma. Kuma, please put that back!" his voice rose as he rose off the sofa, and the bear scrambled away. _Oh, no…_

He tried, in vain, to get Kuma to come toward him. The bear would not do it.

Paper forgotten, he ended up chasing the bear, following it, right out of the house and down the street.

No one seemed to notice to give a hand. He didn't see Arthur or even Alfie, which surprised him since his brother was always outside if he could help it. He didn't have time to ponder it though, as the surprisingly fast bear led him through the streets, past the fences… right over the edge of heaven.

He hadn't meant to leave, but if Kuma hadn't stolen Alfie's gift! That thing was precious to him… With a start, he realised that this was the first time he was going to Earth alone. And no one knew he was going.

Oh, he was so screwed. As soon as he could get Kuma to calm down he was coming straight back up, no exceptions.

And he could handle himself down here… He beat Alfie at least half the time now…

—

Finally, _finally,_ Kuma stopped. He laid down at a crossroads and spat out the sculpture, which was wet and a bit scraped but mostly unharmed. Mattie sighed in relief. The thing was, Alfie might not have even been that upset if his gift had been lost forever. He was strange like that. Mattie would have definitely minded, though, and he was glad to get it back. Leaning over, he picked it up, and began drying it gently on the edge of his nightgown. The skirt hitched up but no one was around to see him, anyway.

 _Wrong_.

"Sanks for se preview!" a voice called out, a very singular, familiar voice.

 _Gilbert_.

Mattie's hands dropped immediately and he smoothed the white fabric back to his knees, holding it down. He knew he was blushing, and he knew who the spy was, but asked anyway: "Who's there?" He cursed lightly as his wings froze up from anxiety.

"Vas, you don't recognise se awesome me? Disappointing. I guess I'll just have to make a deeper impression~" Gilbert said, sauntering into view. Mattie's heart began to race as he tried to figure out how to escape; Gilbert was probably faster than him and besides, leading him straight to heaven wasn't a good idea… He gulped and tried to convince himself that, _he's not getting closer, that's not happening, he's staying far away, nope, oh gods he's right in front of me—_

The demon flicked the hem of Mattie's nightgown with his long fingers. His nails brushed against the angel's thigh and the younger twinged, scooting back, only to have Gilbert scoot forward again. The demon leaned into Mattie's ear, whispering, "I vant to see se rest of sat preview, ja~?" The angel's cheeks burned as he backed away, fists full of nightgown as he held the garment down. Still also in his hand was Alfie's sculpture, which was digging into his palms because of the tightness. Neither it nor his brother couldn't help him now.

"I, I don't want to fight you," he managed, fear evident in his eyes. Gilbert smirked.

"I don't vant to fight you either, birdie~ Vhy don't you just do vhat I say? Like se good boy you are…"

"N-non!" he heard himself slipping into French by accident. He couldn't judge Gilbert's reaction, because soon he was edged off the road, into the grass. The sudden decline in height surprised him and he fell back, landing with a thump. He dropped Alfie's gift, but he kept his wide eyes trained on Gilbert, who laughed. It was a strange laugh, harsh and disjointed, and it certainly didn't make Mattie feel any better.

"Too easy," the demon whispered, quickly leaning down and straddling him. He pushed the hem of the gown up, up, up—

"Don't vorry. I von't hurt your insides unless you beg for it~"

Since whatever was going to happen to him was obviously going to happen to him regardless of what he did, he made a quick decision. Without another word, Mattie stopped trying to hold on and completely lost consciousness.

* * *

 **(Send us your feedback! Also, any questions about how we write Mattie and/or Gil are welcome, but know that both of these dorks will develop throughout the tale... also: Spoilers. Luddy will be in here soon and he's so awkward and it's wonderful. See you soon! )**


	6. Welcome

**("Just don't end up in hell," they said. Ahaha, _too late_...!)  
**

 **(Hm... sounds similar to when I entered this fandom. Speaking of which, all of these characters and stuff? Not mine. Not Gil's either [sorry, babe]. Send us a review to let us know what you think! We always like hearing from you guys.)**

* * *

He woke up to the world screaming. People screamed in the distance, his own head screamed with pain and Gilbert was screaming at someone too.

"VEST! You better stay out of se vay tonight!"

His hands and feet were bound but he was relieved to see that his nightgown was still intact, still in place, and although he couldn't really move he didn't feel sore, so—

Maybe Gilbert hadn't done anything.

 _Not yet._

He glanced over to the demon and more pain exploded in his head with the movement. Everything here was so bright, loud, intensified to the nth degree.

 _This_ , he reasoned, _this must be hell._

He closed his eyes and tried not to think but found it impossible. Heaven dulled things down to make it easier to cope, but hell apparently offered no such service. His thoughts ran wild; anxiety about Gilbert, sheer concern for himself—was he ever going to see Alfie and Arthur again? What would they think had happened to him?

 _What had happened to Alfie's sculpture?_

Panicked, he opened his eyes to look and instantly regretted it. The brightness seared into his skull and he whimpered before he could stop himself. Even as he squeezed his eyes shut again, he could hear footsteps accented by the clicks of claws coming toward him. The footsteps continued to grow louder and then stopped. He could feel breath on his face.

"Guten morgen, birdie," Gilbert purred. Mattie twinged as he felt another rush of adrenaline course through his body. _Please, please just leave me alone…_

The demon surprised him, not by doing as Mattie wished, but by transitioning his voice from low and sexy seducer to pouting five-year-old in one sentence. "Vhy von't you open your eyes?"

Mattie might have even thought it was funny, if he wasn't so scared. "You have such pretty eyes," the demon continued, sounding genuinely disappointed. Mattie shifted. " 't hurts," he managed, his own voice sounding weak to his ears. Gilbert fell silent.

"Fine," the demon eventually said. "You'll get used to it." He padded off, grumbling to himself. Mattie was left alone, for now.

He tried to control his breathing to give him something to concentrate on. He didn't know what Gilbert was going to do to him, but… presumably, this was called hell for a reason.

—

His headache never dulled, but after a while he was able to block it out, somewhat. He sang soft songs to himself in English and French, and when he felt well enough to open his eyes he did. It still stung, but not nearly as much.

No one had told him what hell would look like. As a child, he'd imagined heaven all fluffy clouds and angels flying around with harps, and hell a dark, red place filled with fire and chained red men. The thing he found strange was that his perceptions weren't totally off. That was one of the things he had enjoyed—and still did enjoy, for that matter—about Doctor Who. The show played with legends, illustrating origins for them. Robin Hood was a story still told because he had been real. Witches and voodoo were the work of aliens. According to the show, hell was a concept that almost all cultures across the universe shared, making it much more likely that it was real. Well, the Doctor met the devil and so might Mattie. But there were no red men here.

The room he was in, probably Gilbert's, was not on fire. It _was_ dark, and rounded, like a cave, but it seemed fairly civilised. Other than the unidentified puffed breathing coming from underneath the bed, nothing seemed too dangerous. (The breathing, Mattie noted, sounded regular, so whatever it was was probably asleep. It still made him nervous, but… so did everything else.) Posters of varying ages lined the walls, most in foreign languages. Most, Mattie found himself slightly amused, in German. He rationalised that, likely, the demon had been German when he was alive, but were Mattie born in the era of World War I or II, _he_ probably would have accepted that all hell was in German. Despite his situation, smiled at the thought.

He wondered what Gilbert had done to end up in hell. Truly, he was terrifying, but Mattie didn't want to believe that the demon had always been inherently evil. That may have been the easiest belief, but it wasn't the kindest. Thoughts such as these must have been the reason he'd ended up as an angel… But who got to decide? What happened to people who lived between the lines, both good and bad, neither totally 'black' nor 'white'? In short… almost everybody?

Judging someone on only their past actions wasn't fair, because if those didn't reflect present actions then obviously the person had changed. And judging someone on their final actions wasn't fair either, because finality followed its own rules! He sighed. Without realising it, he'd begun to pity the demon, because more than likely his situation hadn't been fair.

Said pity would disappear when Gilbert came back.

—

"Who is your, uh, 'friend'?" Ludwig asked, clearly uncomfortable picturing his 'brother' doing anything sexual. Gilbert cackled. "Aw, don't vorry, Vest. It's just a human," he easily lied.

'Vest' still looked concerned. "You know you're not really supposed to bring humans—"

"Ja, ja, I know vhat I'm 'not really supposed' to do. I'll just get an angel to vipe his memory or somesing."

His brother glanced up at mention of that pronoun. "For hell's sake, Lutz, is this really the first time you've noticed? It's only been, vhat, almost two hundred und thirty years? Damn, you're slow. Homosexuality's a sin, so I gotta do it!" He laughed again.

"A sin? Really? Like suicide?"

The laughter stopped and Gilbert's voice changed within an instant. "Don't talk to me about sat," he snapped, "You have no right." He glared at his brother, eyes full of rage and lips twisted tight. There was a reason why they weren't close.

"You didn't have to end up here," Ludwig continued. "I think you vould have been good enough to go to heaven."

"Like hell I vas," the pride demon spat. "I'm se same person now I vas sen, only now it's more obvious."

Ludwig said nothing.

"You know vhat, fuck you, just leave me alone," Gilbert demanded, getting up. "I'm going to have awesome sex tonight und you're not, so. I vin," he added, bitterly. He hated West for being able to get to him.

He decided to let off some steam before going back to his _engel._ Birdie didn't know when he was coming back, so he wouldn't be missed. Besides, he didn't deserve backlash from Vest.

As far as lashes, though… he smirked. Tonight was going to be fun.

* * *

 **(Suspense! I'm sorry. Not really. I'm rather proud of myself actually. Also—the next update we do may be on the Reincarnation AU, not mostly depends on if I get my act together and actually finish editing it.)  
(And, related to the story: Ludwig. It's not specifically stated, but he's not from Gilbert's time period, he came after. Died in World War II. Feliciano is an angel, so... even though we're not going to write that story, there it is. Sorry for unintended Gerita feels, they're really not my division.  
Check back up in four days, eh? we'll see what gets published!)**


	7. Pride and Prejudice

**(In which Luddy tells us something that Gilbert doesn't want anyone to know. Enjoy that~ Unfortunately, we don't own this fandom or any of that jazz, so... what can I say. Reviews! We like them! Also: I have the next chapter written but I'm [somewhat seriously] considering changing Mattie's reaction to Gil being a needy dick in said next chapter, so... suggestions? What do you want to see? Drop us a line and let us know. It's all in flux now.)**

 **(Update: Said next chapter is no longer in flux. Thanks to our awesome reviewers for helping out!)**

* * *

"Birdie~" the demon called, upon entering his room. Mattie froze. The boy had been looking at the objects on Gilbert's shelves—from the bed, of course. He still couldn't get up, hands still bound—when the demon came in. Mattie slowly turned to look at him. He looked pleased.

"Hallo, mein sveet engel," he said, coming close. Mattie squirmed. However, this time Gilbert just laughed and picked something. up off the floor, and placed it on the bed beside Mattie's head. This, it turns out, was the breathing thing. It was no monster, but instead a very familiar, small white bear. He quickly became entranced by Mattie's halo.

"Kuma," Mattie exclaimed quietly, and the demon chuckled. "You can keep him," Gilbert said. "I have no use for him, und he doesn't really like me anyvay."

"You were a very bad boy," Mattie told the bear, ignoring the demon, "this is your fault."

"Oi, don't give him se credit! He only did vhat I told him to!" Gilbert said, indignant. Mattie looked up at him.

"So you arranged this?" he asked, feeling a bit more confident since he actually knew something for once.

"Duh."

"…Why?"

The pride demon shrugged. "You're beautiful. Innocent. Und I vant you~" he added, trailing his fingers down the angel's side. Mattie's breath quickened, his wings shivered, and he wished they would both would stop doing that. "W-where's my gift from Alfie?" he asked, trying to distract himself and the demon.

"Vas?"

"The sculpture thing. All those little pieces glued together that Kuma tried to eat," he explained.

"Oh." There was no emotion detectable in Gilbert's voice, and it made Mattie nervous.

"Did, did it get broken?" Mattie asked, looking down. He didn't want to think about the possibility that he may never get it back.

"Nein, nein. It's right here." The demon pulled it out from—a bedside table? Mattie couldn't really see—and held it in front of the angel's face. He spun it around so Mattie could see it was still all one piece before putting it back on the table.

"Thank you," the angel said softly. He meant it.

"Vhy's it so important to you?" Gilbert wondered aloud. Mattie looked back up at him.

"It's from my brother."

"Oh," Gilbert said again, only this time disgust was audible in the word as he thought about his own brother. Damn Vest.

"It's like a memorial to his life," the angel continued. "It's made up of things he owned and enjoyed when he was alive…"

"Life is stupid," Gilbert said suddenly, accidentally. Mattie stared at him. "Life is beautiful," he responded, sounding confused.

"Vell, you're a fucking angel, of course you would say sat…"

Mattie frowned. "Just because you didn't end up with such a good deal doesn't mean that all life is not w—"

"A good deal?" Gilbert sputtered angrily, "a good deal? Ha! I didn't 'end up' or 'not end up' vith anysing, pansy. I'm here because I vanted to be," he asserted, venom seeping into his voice. Mattie cringed. "S-sorry," the angel offered. Gilbert just glared at him.

"Your—your posters are nice," Mattie said, attempting to assuage him. "German, eh?"

"Prussian." Gilbert replied shortly. His own wings twitched, irritated. He didn't feel like having this conversation right now. "Sey're Prussian und so am I."

Mattie appeared to consider this. " …Isn't Prussia not a nation anymore?" he asked, but before he could barely finish the question the demon was on top of him, looking him straight in the face, pinning him down even more than before. Mattie felt the demon's tail poking into the flesh of his legs through his nightgown, and the ceiling was blocked out by Gilbert's, dark wings. "Say sat again und I'll throw your fucking halo into lava," he said. His scarlet eyes burned something dangerous and Mattie quickly nodded.

"Entshuldigung," he muttered, getting off. He knew Mattie wouldn't be able to understand; that's why he allowed himself to apologise.

"Bless you."

"That's gesundheit."

"Sorry."

The Prussian demon sat in silence. "I need a drink," he finally said. "I'll be back." Mattie watched as he got up and put on a coat. He wondered, absentmindedly, if hell was cool enough to need a coat. "Can you unbind me?" he asked, hopeful. Gilbert turned back to look at him. With a smirk growing across his face he came back over.

"But it's so much more fun vhen you can't fight back…" he whispered, leaning in. Mattie's whole face flushed. However, he found that when the demon turned and left, his hands and feet were free. How did he…?

Was he really that distractible?

No. No way. Gilbert must have used his demon powers.

—

Now that he as able to sit up and move around, Mattie could get a proper look at the demon's room. He got up, but fell almost immediately with the immense headrush he got from laying down too long. He gripped the supports of Gilbert's bed, waiting for the rush to pass. He wondered what Alfie would think of him now. So much for the 'fierce fighter' his brother had tried to make him.

His wings were sore from being crushed against his back in the bed. Thankfully, the demon hadn't found it necessary to bind his midsection or else he'd probably be crippled for a while. He couldn't travel between planes without wings.

While he stretched, he became lost in his thoughts again, straining to figure out how he could get home. He had met Kuma this morning, played with him, chased him down to New Prussia by about one… surely it had to be at least five or six o'clock by now. Surely, Arthur and Alfie had noticed his absence... right? But what would they do? No one had told him what the protocol was if someone was kidnapped—indeed, was there even such a protocol? Mattie sighed at his own young age and lack of knowledge. There was no way this would happen to someone who knew what they were doing.

Then again, he felt fairly certain of what the demon was going to do to him… and he shivered. It wasn't as if he'd never been close to someone before, but, he had been single for a while when he was beaten to death, and before that he hadn't been comfortable enough with his sexuality to actually publicly date a guy. His last girlfriend had been when both of them were still too young to…

Yes, okay, he was still a virgin. He hadn't thought that was important, but here, in hell? It probably was. The demon was probably going to sacrifice him after their "fun" or something…

Oh, gods. He had to stop thinking about this. He went over to the far side of the demon's lair, hoping to distract himself. He hadn't been able to see much over here from the bed, so perhaps…

Two old paintings hung side by side, all faded oil and gilded frames. The one on the left depicted and older man, regal yet kind. His grey hair was pulled back (Mattie suspected it was a wig—didn't most people in power wear wigs back then?) and his eyes, surprisingly blue, smiled at the viewer more than his mouth did. The other painting… showed Gilbert.

Just how old was the demon?

But it wasn't Gilbert, not really. It certainly wasn't the one that Mattie had, uh, been kidnapped by. This version looked young, in his late teens at most, and… he was happy. A familiar smirk was spread across his face, strangely contemporary despite the aged garments he wore. His eyes, Mattie noted, were still red. But he was struck by no fear as he met the painted Gilbert's gaze.

So what had happened to him, in between when the portrait was painted and—

Mattie heard the door to the lair creak open and froze, again. He wasn't sure if the demon would be angry at him for what could be perceived as snooping, but he was definitely prepared to apologise, if that would prolong his safety. With kind, hurried words on his lips, he turned around to face his captor—

Yet another surprise. This was not Gilbert.

An evidently, Mattie hadn't been whom this large, blond demon had been expecting either. They looked at each other, unspoken confusion hanging in the air.  
"You're not a human," the demon spoke up first. He stared at Mattie's soft wings and halo and the angel felt exposed, but not violated, as he did when Gilbert stared at him. He wondered if this demon was going to hurt him too.

"Am—am I supposed to be?" he asked, struggling to make his voice heard from across the room. The demon raised an eyebrow.

"Vell, Gilbert said you vere," he replied, turning away. He began rearranging the objects on the shelves, dusting around them with familiarity. To Mattie's surprise, the blond demon seemed strangely apathetic to his whole situation. That seemed good for him. The angel was still curious though, and had always leaned toward the naïve side, so against better judgement he piped up, "W-Who are you?"

The new demon didn't look up from the shelves. "Gilbert is my bruder," he told the angel. "…You don't belong here," he added, somewhat unnecessarily. Mattie shifted where he stood, still nervous.

"Ah, oui. I know."

"Vhat did he tell you? Anysing?"

The angel noticed the 'oh-not-again' tone in Gilbert's brother's words, and he felt his pulse quicken as he considered that this might have happened before. Why hadn't the angels told him more about demons and their tendencies? Didn't it seem like a big deal?

"…anysing?" the demon repeated, and Mattie realised he hadn't responded. "Not really…" he admitted. He had no idea what the demon's brother was about to say and honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Gilbert is a pride demon," the brother said, without hesitation. "He committed suicide in 1786. Since sen, he's become vild, thoughtless, und… needy."

Images, some quite graphic, flashed through the angel's mind, and his face flushed. Gilbert had already shown his 'needy' side, if all the times he'd stared right through Mattie's thin nightgown so far was anything to go by. He tried, in vain, not to think about it.

"Not all demons are like sat, you know. Und, he may act like he's se best sing sat Satan ever spawned, but—"  
Mattie wasn't exactly sure what that comparison meant, but it didn't matter, because the demon was quickly cut off.

"VEST! Vhat se hell are you doing in mein lair? Get out!"

As the angel felt his blood freeze, again, he almost wished he could just get it all over with… but provoking a demon was something that simply wasn't done. He would wait.

* * *

 **(How does one _deal_ with a Gilbert like this? Tell us, please!)  
(Note: We _will_ be delaying the next chapter of this story to June 3rd instead of May 30th... Because~ We're updating the Reincarnation AU instead! After too long of a time. So sorry, but it'll still be soon!)**


	8. There's Something Sweet (& Almost Kind)

**( Beauty and the Beast lyrics, anyone? ...Anyway, Gilly just found Luddy in his room and is pissed. Mattie ****is a bystander. Tension is rising, suspense is rising—why are you still reading this note, anyway? Go, go!)**

* * *

As Gilbert re-entered his lair, as he called it, he forcibly pushed his brother back out through the door. He flashed Mattie a grin that said, 'I'll be vith you in a moment~'. Heat bloomed upon the angel's cheeks.

Gilbert yelled at his brother in German before slamming the door and, making a show of the ordeal, locking it. He removed his jacket teasingly and licked his lips as he threw it on the floor; Mattie's hands clenched the hem of his nightgown. The demon came close, too close, and Mattie tried not to flinch as a strong arm settled around his waist.

"Nevermind vhat Vest told you," he spoke low and hard, "he's just a rotten liar. Come on," he said suddenly, tugging the angel toward the bed. _"I need to fuck you right now."  
_

Mattie couldn't help it—his breaths became shallow and strained as the demon dragged him back, pushed him against the framework of the bed, let him fall with a soft thump into the mattress. The demon put his long-nailed hands on either side of Mattie's face and grinned. He looked dangerously possessive, wicked, feral. Pure lust glittered in his eyes, and the tip of his tail began prodding Mattie's thigh provocatively. The angel could feel his heartbeat racing with his thoughts.

"Are you ready, _birdie_ ~?" the demon drawled. He leaned close to Mattie's neck, breath hot against it. His voice was thick with need, his accent prominent. Admittedly sexy. 'Was he ready' was probably a rhetorical question; Gilbert thought he'd continue whether the angel answered or not… But here in hell, no memories were blocked from Mattie. He could remember the last time he'd been taken advantage of, his body irreversibly bruised by unwanted fists and feet. He'd died that time. He wasn't going to be hurt again.

His fear did not evaporate, he did not feel strength suddenly rising up in his chest. But he'd made up his mind. Mattie was finished with this. He tried to steady his voice.

"No."

The demon stopped. "No?" he repeated, almost accusing. Mattie swallowed, not taking his eyes off the man—the being—above him.

"Well—Did I stutter this time?" the angel asked, looking up at Gilbert, "I said no. You don't want to do this. I don't want to go through with it. I got beaten to death, you know. I'm not exactly eager for my body to be taken from me again."

Perhaps hell made it easier to be cold. The angel didn't think he would have said that in heaven, but he said it here and he wanted to believe he would have said it on Earth. He didn't want to fight Gilbert, he really didn't, but he would. Now that he realised he could do it on his own terms.

The demon was frowning.

"Just tell me," Mattie continued, his voice softening slightly. "Honestly. Because that's what you're going to do, isn't it? You're going to take me, use me, you're probably going to break me completely and then—"

Before he was able to process it, there was a pair of lips on his own. But these weren't needy or violent; this kiss was short and careful and by the time Mattie was able to decide whether to kiss back or not, the lips were gone. Gilbert removed his hands from Mattie's head and rolled over next to him, curled up facing the other way. His wings had folded into his back, just covering his shoulder blades, and his tail brushed up against the angel once, accidentally, before keeping to itself.

Mattie didn't know how to react to what had just happened. _Did he—he just_ _won._ For this round, at least. After a moment, he pulled his legs up onto the mattress with the rest of him. He focused on his breathing and heart rate, as the demon breathed equally as wordlessly next to him. They laid with unspoken words for what seemed like a short eternity.

So. There was _something_ to him besides the lust and the anger. Mattie hoped that, perhaps if he could distill those parts away… or make them less prominent…? Well, if anything, it would likely keep him safe for longer. He mulled it over, wondering how to begin.

"What were you like when you were alive?" the angel eventually asked, more softly than he intended. He supposed he was trying to break the tension. The demon just shifted. Mattie wasn't even certain that he was going to answer, but just as he gave up on the idea, the demon did.

"I… vas awesome," he said. "I thought I vas se best sing sat ever happened to Prussia." He added something under his breath that Mattie was obviously not meant to hear, but the angel didn't push it. Gilbert had already surprised him again by replying at all.

"What did you do?"

And Gilbert told him. He spoke of dangers he'd faced with the Prussian army, and celebrations he'd been to after their victories. He spoke of wide, palace gardens and dark hallways at night, lit only by the wavering candle in his hand. He spoke of the awesome strategies used in Prussian battle, some of which he'd helped design, some of which had been wildly successful. There were many things he did not speak of, but by the time his words became slow and tired Mattie felt sure that yes, he had been a real person, once upon a time. If not his life, then his decision just now, should be proof of that. The painted portrait Gilbert _had_ existed, and perhaps—as he felt a pair of arms encircle his waist, quite gently—he still did. The angel just had to find him.

He was not, for the moment, afraid.

* * *

 **(Optimistic? Probably. But the poor dear is an angel, what can you expect?)  
**

 **(We don't own this. We never will. Special thanks to** **SheeleOtaku3 for sending a review on the last chapter regarding Gilbert's behaviour. It really did help me out, even if I didn't quite follow your advice... Lots of love. And hey, everyone—like what you see? Let us know. Don't like what you see? ...equally acceptable, but it'd be great if you could tell us why. Thank you!)**


	9. An Interlude

**(So obviously, our favourite characters to write are Mattie and Gilly. But... man, Arthur is pretty fun. Especially with Francis and Alfred. So, to develop the plot and play around with a certain Brit, a Frenchman and an American... here you go. We shall return to our dorks in the next chapter.)**

 **(And come on. Don't just skip it. That's not very polite, mm?)**

* * *

"Oh, good lords!"

"Et, what happened to not saying ze lords' names in vain?" a lazy, French voice drawled. The demon to whom it belonged lay on the bed, shamelessly watching his angel get up and dressed. "Or did you give up on zat rule, because of all ze times you 'ave broken it because of _moi_?"

"Oh, shut up, frog," the angel mumbled, gathering his things and straightening his gown. He tried to convince himself, as his hands flattened his white collar, that he was still a respectable Victorian gentleman, even after death. Even after this… affair. It wouldn't happen again, he swore! (He knew it would, and hated himself for it). He brushed a hand through his hair and sighed; as if any proper gentleman would let someone such as Francis even touch the lapels on his overcoat. _Such quick fingers on those buttons, though… No!_

"I have to leave," he told the French demon.

"Mm~?" Francis replied, snagging his gown as he walked past. "Why don't you stay awhile, non?"

Arthur turned back to glare at him. "No," he said, purposefully pulling his gown out of the demon's grasp. Francis frowned.

"Mon cher…"

"No! Don't do that to me, you can't guilt-trip me into anything, you absolute imbecile!"

"Language, Angleterre," Francis pointed out with a smirk. He rose languidly and wrapped himself, despite much protest, around the Englishman. "I think you will find zat I can guilt-trip you into almost anything I like," he purred, running his fingers along the other's wings. He cried out when Arthur elbowed him in the stomach.

"NO. You're wrong. And _I am not staying_ ," the angel added for emphasis. Francis muttered to himself, something about being wounded by the pure. Arthur ignored him.

"What is is _zis_ time, zat is so important for you to go back to?" the demon asked, sounding annoyed. He did hate when his angel left him.

" _You_ made me forget about Matthew," Arthur accused.

"Who is zis _Matthieu_?" Francis shot back. "You are always mentioning new people, Angleterre, 'ow am I supposed to know 'ow you are involved wiz zem? Am I to trust only ze word of _un ange_?"

"Seeing as we're practically forced to tell the truth all the time, I don't see why that's a problem!"

"Says ze one who is hiding zat 'e belongs to _un démon_!"

Arthur's eyes narrowed. _How dare he_! He looked directly at the vanity demon, confronting him. He would have stood right in front of him, if he wasn't so certain that Francis would try to grope him while he was talking.

"I _do not belong_ to you," he said, determined to win, "and I can talk to whomever I like. Be they angels, demons, even humans—you cannot stop me, so don't try. Now. I have someone I need to take care of, because that's what people who aren't obsessed with their bloody selves do! Just go back to hell," he added, for good measure, "and for good sanity's sake, _stay there_." He turned to leave.

"I will meet wiz you when you begin to miss me," Francis called out. Arthur sighed. _Why couldn't he just_ _leave_ _already?_

"I'm not going to miss you, you delusional twit. I don't love you."

"…non. I do not love you eizer."

And with their odd declaration out of the way, Arthur left.

—

"Artie! Artie, where in heaven have ya been? I've been lookin' all over for ya! Where were you? _Artieeee_!"

"Don't call me that," Arthur corrected the younger angel automatically. He wished he would just leave him alone to take a nap…

"Sorry, Artie," Alfie said, apparently with no intention of giving him a break. He ran up to the British angel and began bouncing, unable to stand still. "Look, I thought you were missing too, alright? Don't do that! But now that you're here we can—"

"How do you mean, 'missing too'?"

"Dude!" Alfie said, louder than necessary, "Don't you know, I thought you were lookin' for him! Mattie's gone!"

Arthur felt something in his stomach drop. _Gone?_ No, he couldn't be. He, Arthur, was in charge of the younger angel. He couldn't have just…

 _Francis_.

"That damned frog better know how lucky he is for being already dead!" Arthur muttered darkly. Alfie looked genuinely concerned.

"…What?"

"Bloody Francis was distracting me! He and Gilbert are friends, so… probably planned… gods, Mattie really is gone, love. I don't think there's anything we can do."

Alfie stared at him blankly. "Of course there's something we can do! We gotta help him! We just hafta… why're you looking at me like that?"

The older angel dropped his gaze, shifting uncomfortably. "Can you think of any angel who was brought down to hell while you were here…? No? Right, because _that doesn't happen_. Even the angels who have, ah, _special connections_ with certain demons don't get to visit their realm. And why would we want to? It's drastically different from our own, and we'd be horribly adapted to their environment. Not to mention how dangerous it is. If Mattie has been snatched down there… there's no telling what's been done to him by now. I'm sorry, Alfred, but I think that's the end."

Alfie's bouncing slowed and came to a stop. "But, he's my brother," he pointed out. Arthur shook his head.

"He is my _brother!"_ the younger repeated, raising his chin to the one in charge. "I don't care what happened to him. I don't care about your rules this time, Artie! I'll go after him myself! _Heroes save people_ ; they don't abandon them!" He ran off with new fuel, a new fire in his eyes.

"Alfred—!" Arthur yelled after him, "Alfred, come back here! I can't—I can't lose you too," he murmured. _Of course I love Mattie, but, he's gone. You're not, yet…_

How had he messed things up so badly? He hadn't even been cooking this time…

* * *

 **(Poor Artie. he's trying so hard here.)  
**

 **(Heyy, guess what we don't own? This. And guess what we always ask for? Reviews! Okay, real quick serious poll here: Do the accents bother anyone? Enough that you don't want to read it? I feel like that's kind of an issue in the Hetalia fandom, so just let me know and compromise may be in order. Thanks!)**


	10. Healing Gone Awry

**(GUYS. This looks like the same chapter in the beginning, but it's not. I reworked it. It's more realistic probably, but definitely darker... As far as I know, we're going with this for the canon of the story, so sorry if you don't like it as much, but this is what I should have posted in the first place. And if this is the first chapter 10 you've read? Good on you for missing out on the drama.)  
**

 **(If you want to know where the new part starts, ctrl+F 'not ever.')**

 **(Oh, who are we kidding? This isn't** _**Fiction Press;**_ **this is Fanfiction! So we don't own any of this stuff. Damn.)**

* * *

 _Mmm..._

The pride demon was not one to sleep in late. Perhaps it was him, perhaps it was hell, but Gilbert knew he could only stay dreaming for so many hours before he awoke back to his death. And here he was, proven right once again.

At least this time he had something to keep him entertained.

His _engel_ lay beside him, still sound asleep, breathing slowly. His nightgown was wrinkled under the black sheets, and his wings were curled up, so soft, against his back. His halo floated above his head, askew because of the pillow. He was just so beautiful.

And Gilbert couldn't help himself. He reached over and ran his fingers, as gently as he could—he was almost prettier asleep—through the golden hair. He tried not to let his nails scratch the angel's scalp or tangle the curls. Mattie was so _peaceful_ when he was sleeping…

But even as he caressed the soft face and hair, Gilbert remembered the hurt and angered expressions the angel had made the night before. So many feelings to form a pure, negative reaction to him.

He was a demon, after all.

Pushing the angel way past his limits had never been the point… although embarrassing him was pretty fun Still, Gilbert was beginning to realise just how fragile Mattie really was. And despite the longing in his chest and lower regions… well. He would wait.

Well, by that he meant he would try to seduce the angel slowly, not all at once.

Gilbert ran the pads of his fingers under his angel's chin as he slept. So pretty. He paused when Mattie shifted slightly, worried that he might react badly when he woke. Really, he had no idea how Mattie was going to take it.

His _engel_ shifted again and made soft noises, evidently not wishing to get up. Gilbert smiled. _Ja, me either_ , he thought. He watched in delight as Mattie pulled down the covers and rubbed his eyes.

He did let out a squeak when the first things he saw were the demon's red eyes, but instead of backing away or lashing out, he just smiled slightly, a bit polite, a bit nervous. The demon tried not to grin.

"Guten morgen, birdie~"

"Ah, good morning…"

Gilbert pushed the covers back and the angel squeaked again as cold air hit his legs. He pulled his nightgown down protectively, cheeks pink. His halo was still a bit lopsided. _Fucking adorable._

"Don't vorry, nothing happened last night. I didn't do anysing after you fell asleep."

"Oh, oui… thanks," Mattie replied. Gilbert had to contain his enjoyment of his angel as he got up. He loved the cute noises Mattie made, sometimes with seemingly little cause, and the sweet way he responded to everything, and the deep pink tinge his cheeks would take on when he was embarrassed. Perhaps it was fair to say that Gilbert had it bad for him, but—as he kept telling his awesome self over and over—he really only wanted Mattie to toy with. He was gorgeous, innocent, perfect—

Damn it, the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt did not fall in love.

Not anymore.

Not ever.

Luckily, his unruly thoughts were interrupted by a very simple question, one coming from his angel. It made it much easier to shut off the romance...

"When can I go home?" Mattie asked. When Gilbert turned back to the young angel in his bed, he expected his eyes to be wide, pleading. They weren't. _He's not a child_ , Gilbert reprimanded himself, _if anysing, I thought he proved sat last night by standing up to me._

The demon quickly got back into character. He smirked and strode over to his wardrobe, purposely avoiding answering the question for now.

 _Build up suspense, use sat voice..._

"Vhy would you vant to go home~?" he drawled. "You have everysing you need here."

Mattie looked unimpressed. "No, I don't."

The demon could feel anger rising back up in his chest. He liked the idea of independence, but this? This wasn't how things were supposed to go. He slowly walked back over to the bed, glaring at the angel.

" _Now, you listen to me_ ," he said, leaning into Mattie's face, "I held off last night because you vanted me to. I didn't have to do sat! But you keep countering me, I'll keep going vith my plan! I don't think you vant sat, liebe~"

His pleasure voice was laced with anger and Mattie said nothing. The demon 'hmf'ed, and went back to his wardrobe, opening it to show rows of dark clothing that everyone told him all looked the same. He fingered through them, choosing specific pieces to wear today… he ignored the angel for now.

—

He got dressed and quickly left for the bar, to blow off steam. West would say that it was too early to drink, and on some level he supposed that made sense… but even when the pride demon was alive, he'd had a high alcohol tolerance and besides, the bar was the only place to play unregulated darts.

He slammed the darts into the board, over and over and over. He cursed when he missed and grumbled when he went to go pick them up. He could hear the nearest bar-goers whispering about him. _Vell, fuck sem._

He told himself that none of this was his fault. That people were just, difficult, that they just sucked. His mood had darkened so much since he woke up, with that beautiful angel right beside him—

 _Ugh!_

Honestly, it probably wouldn't be that difficult for Mattie to escape, since he obviously wanted to. He may not know what was outside the lair, but surely if he ran into Ludwig, that damn goody-two-shoes demon would help him… if only because of Feliciano. And unlike Gilbert, he was actually somewhat regretful of his sins.

Apparently.

Gilbert sighed. He—he didn't want Mattie to see him like this. He didn't particularly want Francypants to see him like this, and he sure as hell didn't want Vest. West would just… sigh, in disappointment, and shake his head knowingly. It was one of the worst things down here, even if they weren't close.

So reluctantly, Gilbert gathered up the darts and put them away; he straightened his jacket, lifted his scowl. He didn't feel much better yet, but the sense in him told him that it would just take time.

 _Think Mattie'll still be sere vhen I get back…?_ He wondered idly, and hated himself for it. He shoved the thought away, leaving the bar for good. For now.

He went to go find something to do.

* * *

 **(Well. That's a different twist from last time. More angsty, sorry about that. But don't worry—I'll probably use some of the material from the old chapter ten to make the new chapter eleven or so, so it'll be fine. Probably.)**

 **(Comments, questions? Just want to say hi? Predictions are good too, you know, since things are… kind of a mess right now... So please review! Thank you so much to everyone who already has,** **and especially Polly Little** — **dear, you're the one who kickstarted the change in the first place. It seems messy, but it's for the better. Thanks.)**


	11. Great Power and Great Responsibility

**(Because the chapter title space is too short to put "With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility". Ugh.)  
**

 **(Hi. This chapter was a _pain_. I wrote it yesterday, and then I almost completely rewrote it today. But I think it's good now, so... Let's hope for that! I really need to talk with Gil about what's going to happen in the long-term for this story, because it's been ages since we've discussed it... but, I suppose, if you have ideas you want to share, send us a review! And they might end up being canon. Or at least, canon for this fic. We don't own any of this stuff.)**

 **(Enjoy!)**

* * *

The angel kept himself in check when he could see Gilbert getting angry again.

" _Now you listen to me_ ," the demon had all but spat, " _I held off last night because you vanted me to. I didn't have to do sat! But you keep countering me, I'll keep going vith my plan! I don't think you vant sat, liebe_ ~"

Mattie hadn't replied, mostly because he didn't trust himself to. He wasn't sure, if he opened his mouth, whether he'd redeem himself with another scalding, passive-aggressive comment or if he'd just stutter and nod. So he'd said nothing.

The demon didn't like that, and within minutes he was gone. Again. Effectively leaving Mattie alone with his thoughts, which… was not such a pleasant thing in hell.

He told himself that he wasn't sorry for anything he said. What, for standing up for himself? For reminding Gilbert that he wasn't just going to sit here, and be docile, and forget about his new family? No. He wasn't sorry for that.

But he did feel something sinking in his chest as the demon stormed out of the room. He had thought that… somehow… all the honest talking they'd done last night must have helped. Gilbert had told him enough to assure him that there was more to the demon than just his moods. Mattie had even enjoyed his company, if only a little. Evidently, that was not mutual.

He shut his eyes. In a few more hours, he'd have been here a full day. Twenty four hours… more or less. With time being different in each realm, it was kinda hard to tell; it felt like forever. But it was probably almost a day.

Where were Arthur and Alfie? He had to believe they were on their way, or making progress, or something. They had to be. Right? But he had no idea if they could even come down here on their own. What if angels couldn't enter hell without a demon? What if they couldn't come here without it being considered an act of war? This could be much bigger than just him, the young angel realised, and that scared him almost as much as Gilbert had.

So, say they couldn't come for him. What then? Mattie remembered the 'inspiring stories' they'd always advertised at school when he was alive. People surviving months, years after being kidnapped or taken hostage, and then safely returning and readjusting to normal life. Well, the stakes might be a bit different here, but he was sure the same basic principles applied. _Stay calm, know your resources, play it right._

He could do that. Probably.

He told himself he could, anyway.

—

The angel hated to wait around even more, but he didn't think there was anything he could do while he was still in Gilbert's room. No secret exits as far as he was aware, and no ventilation shafts—how did this room heat and cool, anyway?—and while he saw quite a few objects he could beat Gilbert with, he'd rather not. Speaking to him had worked so far, so he'd only think of force as insurance.

He'd like to think the Doctor would be proud of him. Especially Nine.

So, instead of suddenly trying to master martial arts like Neo in the Matrix, he focused his thoughts on what he might say to Gilbert.

 _Look, I know we had a rough time earlier—  
_ _I don't think I understand what you_ _really_ _want—  
_ _Why don't we stop and keep getting to know each other a little better? I liked talking with you—_

"What if we—?" Mattie wondered aloud, but he stopped at the sound of footsteps outside the room. He watched as the knob twisted and the door opened, revealing not the demon himself, but the demon's brother, standing in the doorway. He still looked surprised to see the angel.

"West?" Mattie prompted.

The demon blinked and nodded, and then shook his head, evidently changing his mind. "'Vest' is vhat Gilbert calls me. My name is Ludwig." he said.

"Ludwig, then," Mattie repeated, "Hello."

"Guten morgen." His voice, his intonation sounded much different than when the pale demon spoke those words. More respectful, more… distant. It was interesting, Mattie thought, and kind of nice.

"Do you, need somesing?" Gilbert's brother asked, and the angel just sighed.

"Gilbert left again."

"Oh." The taller blond looked away. "Vell, he might not be coming back… Not soon, anyvay. I didn't even expect you to still be here. His, uh, _lovers_ usually leave early."

Mattie could feel himself blushing, even as he tried not to. Of course someone like Gilbert regularly had lovers. Or, at least, he regularly slept with people. Mattie had already gotten the idea that the pale demon wasn't exactly a long-term relationship kind of guy, so it shouldn't have surprised him…

"Well, um… we, we didn't—you know. I kinda talked him out of it."

Here Ludwig's eyebrows raised from his default, stoic expression. "You did? How?"

 _The real question_ , the angel thought, _was why it had worked in the first place._ He didn't have an answer to that one, but he took a moment before giving an answer to Ludwig.

"I just reminded him that if you have to use force, it may not be the right thing to do," Mattie told Ludwig, "He didn't like that, but he accepted it. He left me alone the whole night, included when we started talking."

"You got him to talk, too?!"

Gilbert's brother looked beyond impressed. 'Astonished' was a good word. The angel smiled slightly and nodded.

"I sink you're a good influence on him," the blond demon murmured. He looked up and glanced around the hallway, warily. "Apparently, no one knows vhere Gilbert is right now. I saw him heading toward se bar earlier, but he isn't sere now. I vas going to check his room, but obviously he isn't here either. His friends are looking ozer places, but…"

Ludwig was interrupted before Mattie could suggest anything. A new set of footsteps was making its way down the hall, accompanied by a smooth, French voice.

"Speak of se devil," Ludwig muttered, and Mattie chuckled even as he was pushed back into Gilbert's room. He could hear the voices through the now-shut door a moment later.

"Ah, mon ami! It is with a great sadness zat I report, zat we 'ave not found Gilber' anywhere. I have searched ze clubs, Antoine ze pet stores, but alas! 'E is nowhere…"

The angel heard Ludwig sigh, probably at both the news and the drama of the French man. He couldn't imagine the stern demon voluntarily spending time with anyone like that, and he would have laughed if he weren't trying to be quiet. After all, Ludwig evidently thought it would be best if no one else noticed the angel. Which made sense, admittedly.

Ludwig spoke up again. "He might have gone to another realm; I sink he's done sat vhen upset before. But… I suspect he vill be back soon enough…"

"Oh? Et why is zat?"

The German said nothing.

"Someone 'e is coming back to?" the Frenchman guessed, and Ludwig sighed again.

And, without warning, the door to Gilbert's room flung open and Mattie found himself standing in front of the two demons. He made his wings and halo disappear, but not before the Frenchman's eyes widened at the sight of them.

"Oh… I see…" The new demon's lips curled unpleasantly and Mattie could feel his heart pounding again. _Wasn't being an angel supposed to be a reward? So much for that._

His luck hadn't been good, so far. Maybe eventually…

No. Probably not.

* * *

 **(Spoiler alert: his luck doesn't get better. But it's okay, because... because... because Prucan is such a great pairing that it would pain me if it didn't work out. So! Feedback—we like that. Consider doing that thing! Especially because, I really have no idea how long this fic is going to be... Cue the nervous laughter... We're just rolling with it at this point. Thank you!)**

 **(Wait, also—did the change in our profile picture come though? Did it, did it? I was so excited about that! I made that picture : ) I'll try to post it bigger somewhere or something. Awesome!)**


	12. Planning, Meeting, Seeing

**(Things we don't own: this. Things that are cool: reviews. Things we're going to warn you for in this chapter... Uh... suicide. Because the demon is a downer. I'm really sorry and it destroys me too, but on the bright side! He's already dead! So he can't really... anyway... feedback would be great if you've got it, otherwise just enjoy. As much as you can.)  
**

 **(...It's not that bad, really.)**

* * *

 _My GODS, Alfred is annoying. Couldn't he tone it down for just_ _five minutes_ _? Please?!_

The Brit scowled as he followed Alfie home. The young guardian angel _had_ just wanted to march straight into hell and demand his brother back, but after a long discussion that included a lot of snapping, whining and the well-deserved use of British slurs, Arthur had finally managed to convince the younger angel that they needed a plan first.

"Woah, woah woah. Did you just say 'they'? Hey, man, welcome to the team!" the American had exclaimed, clapping Arthur on the back. The Brit ignored him.

Now, Alfie was packing stuff up, rushing around his bedroom and babbling on. Arthur could barely get a word in edgewise, which was slowly but surely gnawing away at his nerves—especially since most of what the younger was saying was actually _utter nonsense._

"Will you shut up a second?" Arthur yelled, as Alfie tried to stuff a water gun in his bag. The younger paused, reluctantly closing his mouth and beginning to pout. Arthur sighed.

"Look. Frankly, I don't think you know what you're doing at all. You may be more experienced than Mattie, but I've been here over a hundred and twenty years, and you've been here barely thirty. So you might consider listening to me every once and awhile, yeah?"

"Whatever you say, old man," Alfie grumbled. _That's probably the best I'll get out of him,_ Arthur thought.

"Right," the older angel said aloud, "So sit down, and listen. We can't just go down there and ask for him back. Or rather, demand him back, like you want to. I know you think it's a good idea, but it's not. So—"

"Then what can we do, Artie?!" the guardian angel interrupted, his silence quickly breaking. "You keep tellin' me what we _can't do_ , so why don't you tell me what we can, huh? Every second we spend arguing, he's still in danger, an' it's probably getting worse!"

The Brit said nothing. Eventually Alfie mumbled a half-assed apology, and Arthur continued.

" _So,_ although I strongly suspect Matthew is in hell, there's a chance he's just stuck on earth somewhere. I doubt he's in the limbo. We should check there first, and alert the capital—no, I _know_ you don't want to do that, but we should, so shut up—and once we've done things all legally and properly, and we know he's not anywhere else, then we'll go to hell and get him. Right on?"

Alfie nodded, unsure if he was allowed to talk.

"Good. Now I have, er, _contacts_ that I can use to get us down there, if it comes to that. Once we're there, I'll make sure Francis stays out of the way, and… you can be in charge of getting Mattie," he added grudgingly. Alfie cheered, lightening up.

"So what, it's just the two of us? Against the world? A little James Bond action happening here?"

"That's not James Bond, you idiot!"

The American laughed, and even as Arthur rolled his eyes he felt a little hope rising in him. Maybe this could work, after all…

Now, if he could just do it without Alfred meeting Francis…

—

Meanwhile, the Frenchman regarded Mattie coolly, in the way only a French demon could. He smoothed his hair and folded his dark wings in, and offered a hand to the angel.

"Francis," he said, and against better judgement Mattie took his hand.

"Um, Mattie," the angel replied, and Francis winked. Gilbert's brother just stood there uncomfortably.

"So you are our Gilber's new lover, mm?" Francis asked, dropping his hand to lean on the doorframe. Normally, Mattie liked to think that he wouldn't have blushed, but something in the French demon's voice made it impossible not to. His cheeks darkened as he looked away.

"Um, not really? 'Lover' isn't really the right word…" he trailed off. Unfortunately Francis' curiosity piqued as he smirked at the angel again.

"Non? Because if I am not mistaken, t'was you zat Gilber' was so looking forward to having kinky angelic sex wiz—"

" _Francis_ ," Ludwig interrupted, his face as pink as Mattie's, "Sat is enough."

Francis pursed his lips, but overall he looked quite satisfied with himself. Mattie simply shook his head.

"We didn't do anything."

"Non—?"

"No," he said firmly. Francis made a noise.

"Well, in zat case… Perhaps you know where 'e has gone…?"

—

While Francis, Mattie and Ludwig discussed the demon's usual hiding places, and Arthur and Alfie stood in line at the capital to tell the higher-ups what had happened to Mattie, the pale demon himself was doing something else entirely. He'd taken a short venture down to check something; something he needed to see for himself, right then. He went alone. He figured he'd be back soon enough… Not that Vest wouldn't yell at him, and Mattie might not even be there when he got back—if he were the angel, he'd sure as hell escape—but somehow he'd found peace with that. Or at least he thought he did. He ignored the little voices in the back of his mind.

He needed to know if life was still beautiful, like his _engel_ had said.

Earth was still in the small hours of the night when he arrived; good timing for him, though he hadn't exactly done it on purpose. He walked the streets with his eyes closed, knowing that he was safe from anyone around him. Angels glowed in this realm like starlight to demons, and none of the humans could hurt him. Couldn't, wouldn't. It depended on his mood.

He opened his eyes to see the glass doors of St Francine's hospital, and smiled ever so slightly to himself. That damned eyebrow angel may have ruined his previous plan here ( _stupid fuckface)_ but he could still check on the three he'd been watching before that happened.

Not everyone here was asleep, but he put them to it as he passed their rooms. He was looking for… two patients in particular, and was relieved when he found their doors. Quiet breathing. Monitors beeping demurely. Everything sounded right here, which was a first. Just one more thing to see…

He rounded the corner, and saw the portraits of all the nurses on the wall. It was meant to be friendly, but he used it as a tally, to see if _that one_ was still here…

He scanned the smiling, printed faces, and then scanned them again—she was gone. His mind told him that she might have quit, or moved, gotten a promotion somewhere else; hell, she might have even been in an accident. But somehow, he knew why her picture was no longer there.

She'd finally committed suicide.

And just like that, he did too.

* * *

 **(I'm screaming. You're probably screaming. Everyone is screaming! We should all agree to stop.)**

 **(Suicide is a _Big Deal_. It's not just a plot point, okay? This is serious stuff. So, take some time, be a Hufflepuff, make sure the people around you are okay. Sometimes, a little connection is all it takes. PM us if you wanna talk, send us a review if you just want to scream. Either is fine.)**

 **(And you—yeah, you. If you're looking for a sign that people still need you, consider this it. Keep hanging on, because I swear, it's not as dark as it feels and there are people who love you. Maybe you haven't met all of them yet, and that's okay. Send a PM to this account _any time_ if you want to talk. Or anything. It's totally fine.  
Thanks,  
M)**


	13. He's Dead, Jim

**(I really hope you guys have enjoyed this so far. I'm guessing we have maybe five chapters to go? I'm not sure, 'cause they're not written and I'm a slacker. Oh well.  
Oh, and another thing—this story _may_ have to take a li** **l, two week hiatus at the end of July, due to "Life Things". Isn't that boring? But, we shall see... now enough of that nonsense. Do you think, with all that nonsense, that we own any of this? We don't. Reviews are lovely but only optional, never required. Thanks for sticking with us, here! We really appreciate you.)**

 **(Onto the show!)**

* * *

They found him dead when they arrived. Not, Mattie, no. Gilbert.

The pale demon lay on the cool, linoleum floor, in a pool of blood—his own, by the looks of it… Alfie had gasped at the sight and although the British angel quickly tried to cover his face, it didn't stop either from staring.

 _Why is he dead…?_

But they couldn't just leave him there. They tidied the hall and restrained him with material and magic for when he'd wake, and left the hospital.

Alfie had immediately wanted to go to an abandoned airplane hangar, or somewhere equally as dramatic, because "Artie, man, haven't you _ever_ seen an action movie? This is how we win! We take the villain somewhere remote so we can beat the _shit_ out of 'im without civilians gettin' hur—"

The Brit had only gotten him to shut up by agreeing to look for somewhere private, on the condition that the new location was also nearby. Soon enough, they'd hauled the unconscious demon to an closed parking garage. "Close enough," Alfie muttered.

While the guardian angel agreed to sit and watch their… hostage? Arthur did something he really hoped he wouldn't regret, but probably would.

He called Francis.

—

The Frenchman excused himself from the conversation as his thin phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He stepped away and around the corner.

"Ah, Angleterre!" he said, "Miss me so soon? I am starting to think zat per'aps you love me after a—"

"This isn't about that, you imbecilic perverted _arse_!" the angel cut him off much more violently than usual. Francis stared at his phone in mild shock.

"Someone is in a bad mood," he recovered. He could practically hear his angel seething. How charming…

"Of course I'm in a bad mood, twat, I'm talking to you. More importantly, I'm talking to you a _fter_ you purposely… _distracted_ me so that your twisted, so-called "Prussian" friend could have a go at Matthew! Did you really think I'd be overjoyed?!"

…He had a point. Not that Francis would ever tell him so; instead he just laughed. "Ah, cher. I am deeply sorry for using you, zis time. But you underestimate Gilber';, you see, he would have gotten to Matthieu wiz or wizout your help. I am sure he is very grateful for your assistance—at least zis way, his little angel is safe." He glanced over to Mattie, who was still talking with Ludwig. He was as safe with with the German demon as he probably could be in hell, since Lud would never hurt anyone if he could help it. Unless, Francis chuckled, it involved Feliciano. But he would let that rest; that was not what this ordeal was about.

"Can't say the same is true for your friend," Arthur offered casually, "About being safe. I mean, he doesn't look so good all bound up in a car park—but at least he's still _dead_ , so I doubt he can feel it." The bitterness, sarcasm, _indifference_ was not lost on Francis at all.. He'd heard it all before from the irritable angel, but never so much. Not like this.

"What was zat?" the Frenchman echoed, wanting to make sure he'd heard Arthur correctly. "He is dead?"

"Are you even listening?! The bloody git killed himself! Which we had _nothing_ to do with, by the way…"

Francis closed his eyes. He could still hear his lover yelling at him, but for once it was easy to tune him out. Francis knew that Gilbert had a… a history of bad coping mechanisms, paired with an uncomfortable past. He'd never told anyone his whole story, as far as the Frenchman knew—although by now Francis himself had pieced most of it together. They may have never met in life, but they'd known each other for most of their deaths, and… it didn't make it any easier to deal with the rogue demon.

"Fine, fine," Francis said, overlapping Arthur's speech. "We will be zere shortly. Tell me exactly where you are, please."

He could hear the 'please' throwing the Brit for a loop, but he ignored it. After the angel gave him an address, he thanked him and ended the call, returning to Ludwig and Mattie.

"So… I 'ave found Gilber'. Mon Angleterre has him. But non, shh—" he put up a finger to keep Gilbert's brother from interjecting, "I think zat we should all go to get him. After all, he is, ah… compromised."

The young angel— _poor Matthieu_ —looked at him in confusion, but Ludwig understood what he meant. The German sighed.

"Fine. Let's go. You're coming too, Mattie."

—

Gilbert could see nothing. Every part of his body ached, and he couldn't remember a time when he'd hurt so—

Actually, no… this time wasn't so bad. Must have been since he was on Earth again. Which was great for the pain, really, but soon he remembered— _Oh, I guess zat means I have to deal vith anyone who might have seen me… Ugh._

Well, he didn't want to deal with anything right now. He kept his eyes closed and his movement to a minimum as he waited for his body to repair itself.

—

Five in the morning, Greenwich Mean Time. A private, closed parking garage, (or a 'multi-storey car park', if you asked Arthur instead of Alfie) containing two angels and a demon. Soon to make that three angels, and three demons, one of whom was still tied up and mostly dead.

Arthur was worrying and waiting for the others to show. Alfie was watching Gilbert, occasionally poking him just because he could. Gilbert was healing—and tactfully ignoring the pokes.

While Francis was leading the others to the garage, Ludwig held onto Mattie, whose head was spinning horribly as he readjusted to Earth. His blood was pounding in his brain and he could _feel_ the clarity of his memories dimming as they left hell… he kept his eyes shut during the flight.

They touched down a couple of blocks away, and having already hidden their wings and horns (or wings and halo, respectively), they began to walk to their location. Mattie felt light-headed, but he didn't let it stop him. With Alfie's sculpture in one hand and a fist as the other, he felt ready to see his family again.

Mostly.

* * *

 **(Um, clarity points, just in case they're needed: While our version of heaven tends to dull down pain and painful memories, hell just sort of heightens everything... Including positive emotions to a certain degree, although you could say that the negative energy in the air down there makes it easier to be bitter, jealous, angry, irritated, depressed etc than it is to be extremely happy or joyful. That's all. This is why angels don't go there, and why Mattie's having a terrible time adjusting to being there and then not being there, ugh.)**

 **(We'd love to know what you guys think if you're willing to share! Questions are encouraged, as are comments, predictions, pretty much anything you wanna give us. Or don't. You can do whatever you want!)**

 **(*Within reason. Whatever you want, _within reason,_ please.)**


	14. A Confession Worth a Priest

**(Heyy, you guuuys!)**

 **(Catch that Electric Company reference there? No? Go watch parts of The Electric Company on YouTube! Lin-Manuel Miranda is in it~  
Anyway! This is a chapter. It is... kind of a mess. But, how about you just read it and we'll talk at the end. Deal? And of course, we don't own this fandom stuff. We say that every time.)**

 **(Well, here we go!)**

* * *

The youngest angel wasn't sure what he was expecting to see when he got to the garage. He supposed he'd expected an Arthur who was angry beyond belief, and possibly in tears. He must have expected a brother who would try to 'squeeze the hell out of him' and then turn on the demons.

What he didn't expect was his captor—the complex, layered, mildly-twisted being that he may be—on the concrete ground, dead. Mattie gasped and felt the nonexistent contents of his stomach trying to come up as his brother ran over and pulled him away.

…Arthur was yelling at the other demons.

"Are you happy now?! D'you see what you've done to him now, all of you! Poor lad looks like he might _die again himself_ an' d'you know whose fault that is?!"

He kept going. But Mattie really couldn't focus on any of his words, because even as Alfie had turned him away and hugged him close, all he could see was Gilbert's lifeless body. He'd never seen anyone dead before.

Though now, he could imagine what he must have looked like, when he was… when he was beaten. To death, on his city's streets. Gilbert had bloodstains too, on his chest beneath the restraints and on the floor. Mattie just felt sick.

"H-hey," he managed to choke out, while Arthur was single-handedly roasting the Frenchman, "Al, did you do this?"

Alfie pulled back to look the younger angel in the eye. "No way, bro," he said seriously. "But you're not thinkin' straight, it's not like he'll stay dead anyway. Now what the heck did he do to _you_? 'Cause I swear to all the higher powers out there that I'll make sure that _fucking_ little—"

"Language!" Arthur called over his shoulder, right in the middle of his lecture. Alfie didn't miss a beat in replying. "We're on Earth, old man, I don't have to watch my language like I do up there!" he yelled back. The Brit 'hmf'ed and kept going.

"Wait, what do you mean he won't stay—" poor Mattie started, still trying to process that part of the conversation. Unfortunately, all the speaking and yelling was soon interrupted by a new, more croaky voice:

"Vill you just shut se hell up?!"

Mattie turned, despite his brother's grip, to see none other than Gilbert shift on the ground. The demon wiggled himself into a sitting position before glancing down at his bloodied chest, and grimacing. He rolled his head back to smirk at Arthur.

"Hey, you listened to me for vonce," he said, casually (if painfully) propping himself up on his arms as well as he could. Francis quickly jumped in before the British angel could kill him again.

"Ah, Gilber', mon ami, I must suggest—"

"Shh," the pride demon replied. The Frenchman made a face.

"'So, it is down to you, und it is down to me'," Gilbert said, in what Mattie vaguely recognised as a Princess Bride quote. Arthur had since passed the point of yelling and was now seething silently. Everyone else watched, anxious. Mattie knew that Alfie was struggling to keep his mouth shut—he must have vowed to let Arthur handle this one.

"Explain, now," the eldest angel finally demanded, and Gilbert grinned wildly.

"'Sere's nothing to explain! You're trying to kidnap vhat I have rightfully stolen!'" he continued quoting. The only reason Arthur didn't slap him outright was Francis grabbing hold of the Brit's arm. The angel pulled himself free, looking disgusted.

"Look here," he said, leaning down to Gilbert's eye level, "I am not going to play games with you. I'm completely willing—more than willing—to get you locked up in the _deepest circle of hell there is_. So if you ever want to see your brother, your friend, or heaven forbid, the light of day again, I suggest you start taking this seriously. Right now. Understood?"

Gilbert seemed unimpressed as he considered all that, but before he could open his mouth to get himself in more trouble Ludwig spoke up.

"Ve all know you committed suicide again, Gilbert. You can knock it off."

Mattie watched as the pride demon took a moment to compose himself. In that moment, he looked completely calm, but that was before he turned a deep, murderous glare toward his brother.

"Danke, _Vest,_ " he said, his voice laced with venom, "I'm sure sat vas completely _relevant_ und _necessary_."

Ludwig said nothing. His expression, too, said nothing. Gilbert glared back as hard as he could.

 _Wow._ Mattie could easily feel the tension in the air, among everyone. It seemed clear that nobody here was going to be able to make the pride demon talk—save, perhaps, Mattie himself. He steadied himself and spoke as gently as he could.

"Um, Gilbert? Why don't you tell us what happened."

The pride demon turned his head to face the youngest angel. By the time they locked eyes, it looked like his anger had completely disappeared. It hadn't, most likely, but it might have been covered by… fear, or shame. Possibly regret, it was hard to tell. Gilbert looked away first.

"Vhy do you need to know, you vere there," he mumbled.

"Not everyone was," Mattie reminded him. The demon sighed. "Fine."

"Yes, I'll actually talk, dummkopf," he added upon seeing Arthur's shocked face. The Brit just scowled in his direction.

"Ah… okay. So vhen—no. Vhen I vas at se hospital, I could sense Mattie und se angsty _teabag_ here, but mostly Mattie, because he vas so bright und I could tell he vas really special. Und I sorta… lured him in… but _obviously_ it vas fine because Eyebrows here came to se rescue! Put sat stupid Truth on me und restrained me—vhy didn't you cast it on me today?" he asked, almost accusingly at Arthur. The Brit just nodded at the other demons. "Power balance," he said.

Gilbert seemed to accept this. He continued his narrative. "So he sent me back to hell, I sink, hoping I'd forget about Mattie. Vhich I didn't. I mean, how could you forget him? He's so perfect…"

By this point Mattie was blushing, but he hoped it didn't show.

"So I obviously concocted sis completely evil scheme—taking notes, Alfie? Isn't sis how your favourite movies go?—to get to Mattie again, vhich involved an annoying polar bear und…"

"We all know that bit," Arthur interrupted. "Skip. How did you end up dead on Earth?"

Gilbert was quiet for a minute. To Mattie, he seemed… maybe even nervous for the first time today. The pride demon laughed shakily.

"Vell, hm. Vest kept being more annoying san se bear—" he gave a pointed glance at his brother, "so I left to clear my head. Und, uh…"

"You went back to the hospital where we found you," Mattie supplied. He kept his voice neutral so the Prussian would, hopefully, respond. "Why there?"

Gilbert mumbled something, too soft to hear.

"What was that?" Arthur prompted.

"Mattie said somesing about life being beautiful. I vanted to see if it vas true, und it vasn't."

Francis coughed a little. "Mon ami, how ever did you decide so quickly zat poor Matthieu was incorrect—?" he asked,

"Because she vas dead!" Gilbert shouted, finally cracking. "Because I vent sere to see if they vere all okay und sey veren't, because she vas dead! She killed herself! How can life be _beautiful_ if it's so horrible sat people have to _die to escape from it_?!"

The garage was silent. Outside, they could hear the early morning Londoners waking up, but they paid each other no mind.

"She vas just a nurse," the demon grumbled. "She vas young und stressed; in debt rather san in love. Her family vasn't enough for her. She died," he said shortly. And then, "Sey didn't even have a memorial board, like sey vould have if she'd had an accident… it vasn't, 'noble enough'…"

More silence. Without a word, Arthur waved his hand and all of Gilbert's bonds disappeared. He turned his back to the demons.

"Come on, Matthew, Alfred. Let's go home."

All Mattie gave him was a spare look before they were gone.

* * *

 **(This is heavy, doc. Gilbert... he's a mess. "Bless him," as they say... which is funny, since he's a demon. Ha, ha. That was a joke.)**

 **(Okay. So, uh... Gil and I agree that this chapter seems off. He can't tell me why, and I can't pinpoint it either, so... hey, you! If you have ideas, or were reading it and were like 'eh, that's weird', _please_ send us your feedback... I hate publishing it like this, but we gotta do what we gotta do. Thanks so much, and just think—you'll be a part of something cool by helping us write this. We'll probably put your name at the end of the next chapter!)**


	15. Pure

**(Welcome to the end of hiatus! I hope we didn't disappoint you.)**

 **(I must be really tired, because I looked at the title of this and saw _The Demon With Memes._ Which is a completely different story... one I may write a oneshot of if people send in ideas for it. Anyway, time to be safe:  
We are not in ownership of these characters. Honestly, there would be a lot more representation in Hetalia if we were.  
Also, trigger warnings:  
** ***Suicide—repeatedly mentioned and experienced by Gilbert. Spoiler alert, sorry.  
*mild dissociation on Mattie's part? Not medically, just... the angel purification process is shit. Remember how it makes him feel all hazy? Yeah. Like, extreme that.)**

* * *

The next months passed by quickly. Mattie was placed back in purifying containment, where the higher-ups could cure him of… well, of whatever had happened to him in hell. Things were so hazy to him at this point that he probably couldn't tell you much besides his own name. Meanwhile, Alfie tried to rally up support for a war against the demons but was shot down; Arthur blamed himself for everything but the angels forgave him.

When Mattie was finally released, he felt like a child again. Young, and… free, and innocent. No one would tell him how long he'd been in there, but he didn't really mind… it didn't seem important.

Soon he was invited to Arthur's for tea, which he happily accepted.

—

Contrary to Mattie, the Brit was terribly nervous about the tea. Of course, it wasn't the beloved drink that put him on edge. Having the newly-healed angel over waswhat really had him twitching in his seat. He almost wished he'd never met Matthew in the first place—after all, everything he'd done for the younger angel had only ended in harm. Arthur's superiors knew how much loathing the Brit harboured for himself (and others, but mostly just him at this point), but the Victorian angel refused to be healed. Since he'd been in heaven long enough to be considered an adult, there was nothing they could do.

Now, Mattie sat in front of him, swinging his legs and sipping his tea, and Arthur had to pretend not to be a wreck.

"So, love," the Brit began hesitantly, "how are you feeling now?"

He cringed when the young angel's smile was so bright. "Everything is really great," Mattie said, and the older angel knew he meant it. _Even if it's not quite true… he just doesn't know._

"Good, good," Arthur replied aloud. The rest of their conversation was just like that; just as stilted, awkward and oblivious. Arthur swore he was going to confront the hierarchy about their purification process, but unlike Alfie would have he was going to do it with poise. Grace would win a war against angels faster than bloodshed would.

—

Unlike heaven, hell did not have 'purifying containment'; at least, Gilbert didn't think it did. He'd heard what the treatment did to angels up there, and most of the time he was glad he wasn't a part of it. Most of the time. He would kill for a little numbness now.

He mourned—well, it was more like sulking. All of that time he'd spent on Earth, resolved to nothing. Hours of planning and plotting, all for nothing. If he was being honest with himself, he'd always known this thing with Mattie wasn't going to end well, but he thought it would have lasted longer. It might have turned out better. Maybe?

Oh, who was he kidding? Would a demon's obsession with an angel _ever_ really pay off? Would any vile scheme to bring the holy down to stay with the damned ever work?

No. He knew that now. This universe operated on terms in which darkness ultimately lost, every time. There _was_ a reason he was he went to hell.

So when Vest and Francis had to lead him back down to the underworld, he couldn't say he was surprised. He didn't even struggle that much. He did what he was told.

—

Time went on and he wondered every day if Mattie was being broken. The kid had to be just a few years out of life—who knew what effect those fuckfaced halo-lovers would have on him? Bit ironic of him to think, really, considering how worried everyone had been when Mattie was in his care. It wasn't his fault though. No one angelic trusted him, so he didn't trust any of them.

…Did he trust Mattie? He didn't know. He wanted to, but of course the last time he'd trusted someone that completely—

—was a time he never wanted to think about.

—was 1786. He hadn't been betrayed, but—

He was done dwelling on this. He knew there was only one way to really shut off his thoughts and functions, and as much as it made him hate himself more—

He would continue committing suicide until his soul was extinguished.

—

In and out of consciousness. Back and forth from oblivion to hell, hell to nothingness, over and over and over. His head always ached, but depending on how he killed himself sometimes his chest hurt too. His wrists. His mouth. He never stayed out for more than a few days at most, but he always told himself it was worth it. Who wouldn't want a few days' peace?

After all, death was true darkness. If anyone ever rumoured there to be a sentient being at the end, someone like Deadpool's Lady Death or some religious idol, they were wrong. There was nothing. Pure darkness, black enough so that holding one's eyes open as wide as possible didn't help at all—that was all that awaited there. There was no gravity; time didn't even exist in the traditional sense. There was no sound. There was no memory.

The only thread connecting death to the real realms was heat. When Gilbert died, he returned a particular point in death to reside in; if he'd just recently come back to life and died again, he could feel the fade of the heat signature from last time. Sometimes, he felt blips of heat around him, as people on Earth died and then disappeared from death to heaven or hell. Occasionally, when other demons got into fatal duels, he could feel their presence, prolonged like his. That could be mildly comforting.

He spent what seemed to be forever like this, after he was returned home. He made just enough appearances in hell to keep Ludwig at bay. It wasn't his first time avoiding reality, and he was sure it wouldn't be his last.

* * *

 **(Does this story have a happy ending? I don't know. If Gil were in charge, he'd probably say no because he's an angsty shit** **—lucky for you all, you get me instead. So probably, somewhat... it'll at least be better than this! And we will finish. There's only a few chapters left anyway.)**

 **(We always welcome reviews and feedback. Thanks so much for all the things!)**


	16. The Best Laid Plans

**(Heyy... so. This fandom doesn't belong to us. There are probably a _few_ things that don't make total sense in this chapter so please, feel free to ask about those. I probably do have answers, they just didn't make it in.)**

 **(Also, triggers: Gilbert is still pretty damn suicidal [sorry], there's blood [no fighting, just it being there in some detail] and... I dunno, 'dissonance with the environment'? 'Harsh circumstances'? Just read it, I'm sure it's not that bad. Please let us know if we set you off or made you uncomfortable in some way. Thank you!)**

* * *

Slowly, slowly, Mattie's sense of self began to return. He felt more conscious of the days, and had to think about his responses when someone asked him a question. Everyone around him seemed to be a little less tense than they were before, so things seemed to shift more toward normal.

Well… for the most part. The angels wouldn't let him talk about hell, even though he thought it might be useful. Mightn't it be? _He_ hadn't known anything about the dark realm or the tendencies of its inhabitants, and look where it had gotten him. But Katya, his new mentor, insisted that the hierarchy simply didn't want anyone getting upset or damaged due to underworldly thoughts. He didn't remember that much anyway, so he let it be.

What _did_ he remember? Alfie asked him every time they were alone—alone since the guardian angel knew he wasn't supposed to bring it up. EVen so, it was rare that Mattie told him anything new.  
"I was… brought there… I didn't stay for very long. Nothing really happened… and then you guys were there too."  
Alfie would nod and pretend not to huff, and they'd move on. In truth, the Canadian angel had remembered a bit more than he let on, but he never said. It wasn't a memory, so much as… a deep feeling, one that had appeared in his subconscious at some point after purification and had never left. He didn't quite trust it, and definitely didn't want to share. But late at night, if he focused past the blurriness, he could make some parts of it out.

A work of art, upon the wall. An unexpected smile. Grand stories, told… told to him, by the demon himself…

He didn't remember the demon's name. No one was allowed to say it anymore, for his safety. But this feeling made him believe he must not have been all bad.

When Alfie asked if he'd remembered anything else, he said, "Nothing."

—

Gilbert was doing horribly.

He hated dying. He hated coming back. He hated himself.

It wouldn't be a problem if he'd just stay dead! He was already in hell, so it wasn't like he could be damned for suicide again. And he had nothing else to 'live' for, so why bother.

Then he remembered that hell was a place designed for suffering. At least, that's what he'd been taught.

He hated everything.

"Mon ami, may I come in?" he heard a voice through his door as he was staring at all the bloodstains he'd made. It took him a jolting moment to realise he needed to respond.

"Nein, Francis! Go avay!"

He watched as his door hesitated and then creaked open despite him. He groaned.

Any normal person would have screamed. What should have come out of the Frenchman's mouth was a string of curses, panicked, rushed words about the _horror_ and the _blood_ —

Francis just sighed. "Zis again?" he asked, his voice full of concern, and disappointment, and resignation; at the same time, as void of emotion as it could be. Gilbert managed to give him a nasty look.

"Ja, so?"

Another sigh. "We 'ave talked about zis, Gilber'—whatever happened to ze other coping mechanisms?"

"I didn't feel like it," the pale demon grumbled. He yelled when Francis made him repeat himself.

"Zat is not a good reason, mon ami, and we both know it. Do you not remember promising to be better after how you handled your precious king's death—?"

"You don't get to talk about him!" Gilbert screeched, cutting him off. "No vone gets to talk about him anymore! Vhy doesn't _anyvone_ get or respect sat?!"

The French demon looked down on him. "Probably because you do not respect anyone else, _cher._ "

Gilbert felt the distance between the two of them grow. He gave the Frenchman a cold stare before scrambling to get up and slipping on the freshest blood. He lost his footing, fell to the floor before he or Francis could stop it.

He hit his head, hard.

It didn't kill him. He wished it did.

"Now, zat is enough of zat," Francis was telling him, pulling him up. His vision was a little hazy from the fall, but not hazy enough to block out what was happening. Francis pulled him out of his room before making him walk, down the hall, to another familiar room.  
"Ludwig?" the Frenchman called, "Gilber' needs help. Remember what we discussed…?"

"The hell are you fuckers 'discussing'?" the pride demon muttered. Francis ignored him as Ludwig appeared in the doorway.

"Ja, of course. Is it really necessary?"

"Stop being so damn dramatic!"  
"I believe so."

"Sen let's get going."

Ludwig put his arm under his brother's shoulder, partially for support and partially for restraint. With Francis on the other side, Gilbert couldn't walk off by himself. The Prussian growled.

"Vhere are ve _going_?" he demanded, but neither was willing to answer him. They marched him down to a sector he'd never been to before—odd, the places you don't visit, even after two hundred plus years—where they were all met with official looking demons. Ludwig let go of him, and Francis followed suit.

"Vhat is sis?" he asked, readjusting his clothes and stance for dignity and balance. His brother, evidently, wasn't there for anything other than physical force, because he wouldn't meet Gilbert's eye. The pride demon scoffed.

"Vhat is sis, _Vest_?" he repeated. He scowled at his younger brother and tried to get up in his face, but soon the uniformed demons were holding him back. _Vhy is everyone so grabby today?!_

"Gilbert Beilschmidt. 230 years out of life and he still acts like this?" a new voice proclaimed. Gilbert looked up to see a young woman, in uniform, smirking at him. He spat at her, but he missed.

"I would not do such things if I were you," she warned. "I'm Eliza Héderváry. Thanks for bringing him!" she added, waving behind Gilbert to Francis and Ludwig. Her bright smile contrasted the uniform, the demeanour, the atmosphere…

Gilbert couldn't turn around, but he heard the light footsteps of the French demon and the heavier ones of his brother fade away. Now just him, Eliza, and her army of clones. Or, close enough. They all looked the same to him.

"Now, Gilbert," she said, not even trying to cover up her condescending tone, "You're here because you can't be trusted on your own. Is that right? Your friends and family told me you have a history of committing suicide… Sad. So, here someone will be watching you at all times. Understand?"

It took a lot out of the pride demon not to show his pride being hurt, but he managed. He put on his whole "I don't care" act, complete with scoffing and eye-rolling.

Somehow, he didn't think Eliza bought it, because the next thing she said was,

"And don't think I don't know about King Frederick."

She smirked triumphantly as her guardian demons led him away, loud curses streaming from his mouth.

* * *

 **(If you want to know about Fritz: I'm not sure it's going to make it into this fic! But anyone who desperately needs to know the deets [language like this is the reason I shouldn't be allowed to make conversation] then just send a message and I'll clear it all up!)**

 **From Gil:  
** **Please review for us bitte.  
** **Mattie literally started this at around 5 this evening, so bitte show some support for mein liebe. I seriously tried to convince him to post a chapter we already had... It would have needed minimal editing and a bit of an ending, but he insisted on writing this for you. So praise him, so he will give me kisses and love me more. _(...is that so?)_  
** **And he'll come to bed earlier.  
** **Danke~  
** **Gil out, till next time.**

 **(...He's such a dork, I love him.)**


	17. Oxymoron

**(A note I forgot from the last chapter: It should make sense that Mattie can only make out the good parts of his time with Gilbert. Why? Because heaven blocks out pain and negativity. So, dear readers, it's not that Mattie's mad or trying to make the best of what 'happened to him'; it's just that that's literally all he'd got at this point.)**

 **(This story is fanfiction, meaning the characters aren't ours. However, we're celebrating almost 20,000 words here, and that's kind of a big deal. With only one chapter left to go, I hope all of you have had a good time! We love hearing from you, regardless of what you have to say. Seriously. Thanks.)**

* * *

"Dude, I'm not likin' how Mattie's been acting lately…" Alfie told the Brit after being invited over for tea. Arthur said nothing, just continued to cross stitch what seemed to be his demon beau in the likeness of a frog.

"See, like… I know he's all pure and stuff now, since it's been a couple months since they let him out, but he keeps staring off into nothing. And I think he's keepin' something from me! And—"

The guardian angel frowned.

"Artie, man, are you listening to me?! Artieeee," he whined. He perked up when Arthur responded.

"Yes, of course I'm listening, love," he was reassured. "…what was it that you said?"

"I said I think Mattie's bein' weird!" He honestly tried not to shout. It didn't work.

And once again he was the receiving end of one of Arthur's scorning looks. He'd gotten them so many times over the last, nearly thirty years that it didn't have quite the same effect as it once did, but a small part of him still squirmed.

"Don't yell at me, Alfred," Arthur reprimanded him out of habit. The guardian angel rolled his eyes.

"Man, this isn't about me an' you know it. Something's wrong. I dunno if Gilbert is doing it, or what's makin' him all—"

Arthur sighed and put down his cross stitch, and Alfie knew he thinking the same easy responses he always was: _Oh, good heavens, Alfred, stop prattling on about it! Everything is fine._ Or, _there's nothing you can do, just give it time._ The day Arthur actually listened to him would be the day Alfie announced that the 1880s had been better than the 1980s. Psch. As if.

"Francis has assured me that Gilbert has been… taken care of," the Brit was telling him. "He is no longer a problem. I'm sure Mattie's fine."

 _Way to be predictable, old man._ "Fine," Alfie said, agreeing without really agreeing. "I'll talk to him myself."

He purposely left without finishing his tea.

—

"Al…"

"No, don't you shush me too! I know somethin's up, bro, I just wish you'd tell me what it was!"

Mattie should have known this was coming. All the worrying his 'brother' had been doing, all the skulking about, it couldn't have been for nothing. Here it was, standing in front of him in the form of a confrontational American. 'Yikes', as Alfie might say.

"I…" Mattie began. He knew the guardian angel wasn't going to like this. "It's nothing. I just keep thinking about my demon."

Alfie opened his mouth, almost certainly to loudly express his disbelief, discontent and no small amount of anger, but Mattie beat him to it. _Words are never going to stop him…_ He rushed over and clamped a hand over the guardian angel's mouth, which Alfie promptly tried to pull off, which ended in them wrestling on the floor. By the time the house was quiet, the Canadian was sitting triumphantly atop the other.

"I'm gonna talk now," Mattie told him. Alfie grunted.

"Look. I know you don't like him and I get it. Because he's a demon, right, and because he personally targeted me. But you weren't… you weren't there, Alfie. You didn't see. There was a portrait, back from when he was still alive, you know? And he looked like us, you could see his smile and light in his eyes—and he didn't seem to want to talk about that, I don't think, but he told me stories… things that sounded like they were from one of your fantasy games, but they were real. And you know what, most importantly? He left me alone when I asked. Kept to himself. So please, tell me again how he's _selfish_ and _evil_ , because you weren't there."

"He is selfish," Alfie muttered, and Mattie shifted his position sitting on him.

"Alright, alright! You can remember him, that's, fine," he allowed, grudgingly. The younger angel looked unimpressed, but he hopped off and sat on the couch instead. Alfie got up off the floor.

A moment of stillness. Then, "I want to see him again," Mattie stated, and it all went metaphorically to hell.

"Why, bro?! Why the heck would you want to want to do that, now?!"

"You haven't been listening to me. I—"

"No, dude. I've listened to enough! I thought you were _done_ with all of this nonsense—"

"Al, will you shut up?!"

A deafening silence. Hell in heaven. The angel, who, having just got free, needed to talk to the demon again…

Alfie closed his mouth. "I just want you to be safe," he murmured, and Mattie nodded.

"I know. Thanks… but I think I know better than you for this one."

 _Ouch._ Alfie shook his head, but he didn't voice any more protests.

"So how you gonna do it, Mattie bro? Artie said that Gilbert was 'taken care of', so…"

"Can we contact him somehow? Or his brother, or Francis?"

Alfie's mouth curled into a slow smile. "Is this this the same Francis who Artie's cursing all the time? He's got the number on speed dial~"

So Al would steal the number from the Victorian angel's anachronistic phone when he wasn't paying attention, and call 'the frog'. Then, they'd discuss. Mattie asserted that he would talk instead of Alfie, because he didn't really have _any_ chance if the guardian angel ruined it. Eventually, Francis would agree. They'd set a time and a place to meet—Francis or Ludwig accompanying Gilbert and Alfie accompanying Mattie, at least for the first time—and then the young angel would wait. No one would tell Arthur, or Katya. And he'd get to see his demon again.

Why? He couldn't explain it. Gilbert had put so much effort into seeing him, then seeing him again… it was partially that. More so, he was rude, and uncertain. Crass and eloquent. He bluntly crossed lines and then went back and respected them. Gilbert Beilschmidt made no sense.

Also, the aesthetic of the white hair with dark wings and scarlet eyes counted for something. Mattie blushed.

* * *

 **(Does everything make sense? Sometimes I get overexcited, shoot off at the mouth... _I never had a group of friends before, I promise, that I'll make y'all proud_ —no, I mean, if something seems like it's missing, please ask!)**

 **(In other news: We will be making an account on Archive of Our Own, soon, too! It'll have all the same content, but for continuity/ reachability reasons, we thought that would be a cool thing to do. So... hey! If you ever run into our stories on AO3, we'd really appreciate hearing from you there too.)**


	18. And Well, In Summary

**(Ahh! This is the _last chapter_ of this fic! The end! This is really important to *me* because it'll be the longest thing I've ever written [I'll post the final word count sans author's notes soon] and it's important to *you* because you get an ending to the story. Isn't that nice? There are too many abandoned stories out there!)  
**

 **(...But I get it. Sometimes you gotta abandon your thing, and that's cool. Here's an end to this one though. RAISE A GLASS TO FREEDOM FROM THIS THING)**

* * *

"Vhy am I here?" Gilbert mumbled again under his breath. No one bothered to answer him. In fact, he knew why, and he was actually rather excited about it, but that didn't mean he had to look like he cared.

He sat anxiously in quaint cafe, one with cushy booths and windows facing the street. He'd never been here before, but everything about it made him uneasy… and having his brother watching from the booth behind him didn't make anything better.

"Vest, vhy am I here?" he repeated a bit louder, and the blond sighed.

"Se number of times I have explained this to you is ridiculous," Ludwig told him. "Se angel Matthew vants to meet vith you. Sis is vhere he chose; now stop drawing attention to yourself."

 _The meeting will be supervised, short and safe,_ his brother had told him earlier, as he was being signed out of Eliza's super hell. _I'll be with you, and the American will come with Mattie. Any signs of trouble and he'll be escorted out immediately._

"And you'll come back to me," Eliza had added with a sweet, evil smirk. Gilbert had only been able to make a rude hand gesture at her.

Honestly? He hadn't thought about Mattie in a while. The young angel certainly hadn't been consuming his thoughts… all his waking hours… whenever he wasn't loathing himself, all their interactions replaying in his head… Not at all.

Okay, maybe he was lying.

Even so, while Mattie played on the front of his mind, his king lingered in the back. He'd been avoiding thinking about Fritz ever since—ever since he'd started falling in love again.

 _Oh, Fritz._ He knew the king would probably find him and all his actions deplorable now. 'Why would you wage a war against yourself?' he might ask. But Fritz wasn't here, and hadn't been for a long time. Mattie, on the other hand—

—Was just walking through the cafe door, its little bells celebrating his arrival. His guardian angel followed him.

 _Scheiße. Here ve go._

As Gilbert sank lower in his seat, Ludwig waved the newcomers over. The pride demon thought, again, if he just closed his eyes and focused really hard, he could skip to when everything was just great.

As if that had ever worked.

"Gilbert?"

The demon peered out from under his hoodie and cursed. Of course Mattie was shining as bright as ever. Of course he looked adorable and concerned and sweet, and… way too good for him.

"Hallo."

The young angel sat down across from him, making Alfie share a table with Ludwig. _Have fun, bruders._

"So I—" Mattie began at the same time Gilbert started to say, "Vhy did you—"

"Oh," the angel blushed. "It's fine, you can go."

"Vhy did you vant to see me?" Gilbert asked, still avoiding Mattie's gaze. He could tell the angel was trying to make eye contact.

"Well, ah, I could say I missed you, or that I couldn't stop thinking about you, or I wanted to make things okay between us or something…" he trailed off. "Really I was just curious."

"Heaven blocks out a lot of things," he continued, when Gilbert didn't respond, "I'll probably start forgetting this afternoon when I go back, but I wanted to meet you first."

Again, nothing. He didn't know what to say or how to say it; didn't know if any move he made would be appropriate and he _really_ didn't want Mattie to have to leave early. Even if it didn't look like it.

"Gilbert? Look at me," Mattie said patiently, leaning in over the table. The demon reluctantly lifted his head up—

And that was when the angel's lips were on his. Firm but gentle, and Gilbert may have been a little out of practise but he knew when to kiss back. When Mattie pulled away, his face was a healthy, flushed pink. _Vhat—_

Gilbert's thoughts were short-circuiting. He didn't even notice Mattie's brother freaking out and his own brother holding him back. Mattie _liked_ him? Since when? Literally, _since when?_ He thought that the containment-thingy in heaven was supposed to purge all of the hellish memories and urges from this pure being, so, what was going on?

Uh oh. Mattie was smiling at him amusedly, so he _might_ have said all that out loud. _Ugh._

"I—" the angel said, and then laughed and started over. "I think it only erases the most negative parts. Or, it makes them more distant. Here, I can remember most of what happened, but… I'm not holding it against you. _Anyway_. I… I remembered your portrait, in the corner of your room? It's really good."

"Danke," the demon managed.

"It made me decide you were worth another shot," Mattie clarified, and Gilbert's mouth formed a little 'o'. Mattie smiled.

The pride demon glanced back at Vest and Alfie. His brother looked uninterested, but the American seemed to be attempting to melt Gilbert's brains by staring at him. Was this even real?

"Ignore him," Mattie advised, "he thrives on attention."

So the afternoon passed. The angel did _not_ have to be forcibly led out, and after a while Gilbert even started talking and opening up. They didn't need food, but they ordered frozen coffee to keep the baristas away (even though they were kind of cute. One even reminded the demon of his favourite nurse at the hospital, though he didn't make the connection until later).

"So you'll come back?" the angel asked, after Alfie indicated they were running out of time by stage-whispering from his booth. They all ignored the looks he got.

"Ja! Same time, same place?"

"Mhmm."

He grinned. "How many times do ve have to meet before I can ask if you 'come here often'?"

"Gods, so many times! You _never_ get to ask that!" Mattie shot back, playfully exasperated.

Gilbert smirked. He casually leaned on the cafe table from his seat, trying to look as cool and cliche as possible. He opened his mouth, and…

"Come here often?"

* * *

 **Gilbert again!**

 **Miss me? 'Course you did! Well, this fic is done...! Mattie has some extra scenes we didn't use, so if you're good and review we'll post them!  
** **Also: School starting soon so we'll be going on hiatus from the whole four-day thing. If we do post, it might be a oneshot here or there. Maybe even some spideypool!**

 **Also we have a AO3 now, same stuff will be posted. Maybe other author's notes (he thinks the notes are the best part...)**  
 **I think that about wraps that up! A** **ny questions, feel free to ask and we'll try to explain best we can!**

 **Also we have a tumblr. Go follow (please). (it's 'gilmattie', wow)**  
 **Thanks a bunch!**  
 **-Gil**

 **(Thank you all so much for all your support on this story. Maybe if post the bonus scenes... I can honorary name some people who've been super helpful! We probably won't do anything for you, but Polly Little is getting a oneshot challenge filled, so... you never know. But we couldn't have done this without you. )**


	19. This is Bonus Stuff

**(Dearest readers:  
This story was an _experience_. Seriously, like, wow. Writing everything, editing it… cutting things out. We ended up with some material that we didn't use, but some of that is actually **_**good**_ **. Some of it, even, is still canon in my head when I think about the fic, even though it's not actually in there. So… drumroll, please… here are the best bits of that. In chronological-story order.)**

 **(Also: FINAL WORDCOUNT: 21,309 words. That's without the authors notes or any of this. I'm proud of us; I hope you are, but we're just as thankful for you. Especially SheeleOtaku3, Polly Little, Ldrmas, Hollywoodling X 80, zen4365 and Canawesomeguest! You made our days and we love you. Stay safe, everyone.  
-gilmattie)**

* * *

The sigh Gilbert's brother let out could not have expressed more exasperation. It even rivalled Mattie and Arthur's own irritation at Alfie, which was extremely impressive.

—

"Alright," West was saying, "no vonder he isn't acting like a lover. Uh… here," he added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, tricolour bracelet. "I engineered sis for, ah… my boyfriend," he blushed. "Feli is, very bad at keeping secrets. He's not good at hiding his true form on Earth, so I made him a few of sese so he could blend in better. If you put it on, you'll have less of a chance of being noticed by se wrong people while you're here…" he held it out to the angel. Mattie took it gratefully, and slipped it over his wrist.

—

[about Gilbert committing suicide] "Now he only does it once a year, as far as ve know," West added quietly. "But sere's more to him than sat! He may be obnoxious, but he's, funny und interesting, und he… usually stands up for vhat he believes. He took care of me vhen ve met here, after I was executed; made me forgive myself. Und recently?"

Mattie glanced up to see Gilbert's brother looking at him expectantly. "Yes?"

"He hasn't taken many lovers since he saw you. All humans und demons, one night stands—" he grimaced, "But not nearly as many as before. I sink you're a good influence."

 _Wow_.

—

Here, Mattie could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Force of habit, of course. Angels don't need blood.

—

Arthur desperately wanted to just let Alfred run away and make a fool of himself with whatever "hero plans" he'd thought of. And the Brit would have done…! If he didn't know the younger angel so well. Arthur had no doubt that since Mattie was in hell- presumably- his "brother" would just burst in there with no plan, no strategy, no way out. And not only would he almost certainly be damned or worse... breaking into hell was something that Simply Wasn't Done.

So the former Brit ran after him.

"Alfred!"

"I'm not talking to ya, Artie! I gotta go save my bro!"

"Yes! Yes, I know... Alfred Jones!"

The guardian angel froze.

"You just sounded exactly like my mom."

"I might be offended if I wasn't so irritated wth you. "

"Aaand there's Artie again! Why're you yellin' at me?"

—

Alfred reluctantly closed his mouth.

"Look, I'm not saying you can't go after him- but we need a plan, alright?! You're going to get yourself damned. Or worse."

"Expelled," the American nodded gravely. "What, you don't think I read your books? Harry Potter's great! Even though they didn't come out until after-"

When he looked up again, he saw the older angel glaring at him impatiently.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

—

It occurred to Gilbert that Mattie didn't have a change of clothes…

"Hey, birdie. You might have to wear somesing of mine, ja?" he asked with a casual grin over his shoulder. This received a cute, sputtering mess in response. Apparently someone didn't take too kindly to the suggestion.

"Vhat, is se idea of marking yourself vith mein awesome clothes too much for you? Sat's okay. Just keep se nightgown!" he added with a wink. The angel chose to look purposefully away instead of replying. Gilbert laughed.

He stripped and changed right there, occasionally sneaking glances over at Mattie to see if the boy was peeking. It turned out that yes, he _was_ trying to catch his own looks, although the again blushed furiously when the demon locked eyes with him. Perhaps there was hope for him after all…

—

And so the demon and the angel talked. They actually talked for much longer than Gilbert had dared to hope, stopping only when the demon's brother had knocked on the door around noon Gilbert told him to piss off. True, there were a few awkward moments—Mattie seemed uncomfortable describing his family, and Gilbert avoided anything he hadn't already covered the previous night—but he was pleased. He loved hearing Mattie's voice almost as much as he loved his own, which was impressive. And he was especially proud of himself right now because he'd managed to make the angel laugh. Genuinely.

"W-what?" the angel asked as he came out of his giggles, stuttering this time out of lack of breath rather than fear. Gilbert grinned.

"Ja! It vs se best sing, because Franny got here und didn't have any idea vhat se hell he vas doing. All he could speak vas fucking French, vhich I… actually, I do know a little French, but he didn't know sat. So he's all _'Monsieur, monsieur, s'il vous plait, puis-je avoir un miroir?!'_ und Toni und I just _die laughing_ —"

—

Gilbert grinned. He might have been cocky at first, but soon it became a real smile. He could feel the blush on his cheeks too.


End file.
